14 - Separate Journeys - 14th in the FLAME Series
by RBGirl
Summary: Several people embark upon journeys that may-or may not-end in Hays. While various dangers threaten each traveler, plenty of love and humor help to ease the way...for some.
1. Chapter 1 - Shopping Trip

**A/N: With the multiple storms and other trials, hurts and disasters that seem to be nearly everywhere right now, here's hoping that Calleigh and her latest whim will give you a small break from it all. I hope that you will find a reason to laugh, smile, chuckle or grin when reading this FLAME Series tale. Also, I just want to tell you how much I do appreciate you readers-old and new. You and your feedback are what keeps Calleigh's Gunsmoke Universe alive and I THANK YOU!**

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 **Separate Journeys**

 **Chapter 1**

 **Shopping Trip**

 **June 12** **th**

 **Hays, Kansas**

"Where will you be?" Newly glanced around the street, taking notice as to how much busier it was in Hays, than back home. His hand still gently held his wife's forearm.

"I wanted to go over there, to McAllister's General Store. I saw some toys in the window. How long will you be?"

"Just long enough to do the paperwork on Matheson. The Sheriff said it would only take fifteen minutes."

"Uh-huh..." Calleigh reached down and squeezed his hand. "In lawman talk, that means a half-an-hour." She offered him a teasing smile that held promises of something quite enticing in the near future.

"Come get me when you're done."

As Newly watched her walk down the boardwalk, a smile of pride crossed his lips. It was clear—his Calleigh was the prettiest girl in town. And she had chosen him. _Chosen_ , he thought? _Stalked_ , was probably closer to the truth; but either way, he was a lucky man.

 **O00O00O**

Calleigh stopped to look at the toys in the window before wandering inside. Right off, she noticed the doll with red hair. That would be perfect, except for the fact that Hadley would never give up Bootsie for another doll. However, that rocking horse had definite possibilities. With a smile and a desire to shop, she entered the store.

"Good afternoon." The greeting sprouted from a thin, gangly man. Despite the white hair and deeply lined face, his sparkling eyes and friendly smile still revealed a youthful soul. "Let me guess..." His voice had grown raspy over the years. "You want to look at that little redhaired doll. Do you have a daughter?"

"A baby sister." Calleigh could see the question in the old man's eyes. "Yes, she has red hair too. But she also has a bear, Bootsie, that she would _never_ give up." With a quick glance at the toy in question, she added sadly. "Even for a beauty like that. I _am_ interested in that rocking horse, though. She's a **very** active child."

A new sparkle hit the old man's eyes. One hand shot up into the air as he motioned for her to follow him. "I have something new. It just arrived yesterday and I think it will be just the thing for a lively little redhead. "He disappeared behind a sheet of black curtains.

Calleigh wandered aimlessly by the front counter while she waited for his return. She took little notice of the two women leaving the store; but the two shabby cowboys coming in caught her attention. It was obvious they had just ridden in from the prairie. Judging from the dirt that wafted from every step they took, it was also obvious, they'd been traveling for days.

The sudden appearance of the clerk drew her attention away from the motley pair. "This comes all the way from New York." With as much pride as if he had made the toy himself, the man set it up on the counter. It was a wooden horse, but it was also a tricycle. A beautifully carved head and neck rose up from the center of the handlebars. Even the seat was designed to look like a leather saddle.

Calleigh's eyes grew wide, right along with her smile. Nimble fingers lightly touched along the detail. "This is absolutely perfect! Hadley will love this." For a moment, she felt like hugging the old man. "My little brother recently got a horse of his own and she has been so jealous."

"Well, then, this should be just the thing." He returned to the rear of the counter. "Will you be taking it with you?"

"Oh." Suddenly the smile disappeared. "We're taking the stage home. Do you have a box or something?"

"I still have the crate it was shipped in. I will box it up and have it delivered to the station for you. You mentioned a little brother." It was clear the older man had a lot of experience as a salesman. "Were you wanting to look for something for him as well?"

Calleigh smiled at the craftiness of the older man. "You read my mind …Mister?"

"Jenner. Not Mister; just Jenner, ma'am."

"Well, Jenner, what can you show me for a very bright, very energetic six-year-old boy?" Calleigh followed the man back to the toy section, giving him a clear, if not unbiased, description of her little brother. She was surprised when he led her to a Beggs, live-steam toy train.

"Hmm, he's always messing with horses and animals, I never thought about a train." The infamous grin appeared as she handed the metal toy to the salesman. "Jenner, you are a genius."

He returned the toy to its original box and held out his hand to let the lady lead the way back to the counter. 'I will have this delivered with the horse." Jenner pulled a pad from under the counter and began to take down Calleigh's information. Within a few minutes, the purchase was paid for and the shipping order ready to go.

"Yes sir, I do believe this is going to be my favorite store in Hays."

The two barely had time to share a laugh, when one of the scruffy cowboys stepped closer to the lady. "Yeah old man, it's my favorite store too."

Jenner looked beyond the young lady, focusing on the gun pointed at him. Calleigh was still facing the clerk, but she could tell by the heavy breathing, that the gunman was only a foot or two behind her. She knew there were two, but was unable to discern the whereabouts of the other man.

"Just open that cash drawer." He stepped closer to Calleigh and gave her shoulder a nudge with his gun. "You. Lady… What's in your bag? You must be rich, buying these fancy toys."

Calleigh's blue eyes rose slowly, coming to rest on the clerk. Jenner was cautious, but she couldn't read fear in his eyes. What she could see was a weathered old hand slowly sliding toward the shelf under the counter.

The second man finally stepped into her line of sight. She could sense, more than see, that he was to her left, about four feet. "Hurry up, Tabbow! Get the money!"

Unlike his partner, the shorter man appeared nervous. He was much younger—and by the way the gun shook in his hand—Calleigh guessed he was still new to the game. The man behind her wasn't a novice.

"Calm down, Hyatt. Scairdy little squirt. You just keep your eye on the door. We don't need no company." He took another step forward and waved the gun at the clerk. "Hurry up." Again, he nudged Calleigh, ordering her to dump the contents of her reticule onto the counter.

At first, she was angry with herself for not taking that little derringer, but it wouldn't have done much good if he was going to steal her reticule. Following his instructions, she pulled on the drawstring and let the contents tumble onto the counter.

Despite the situation, Calleigh had felt more anger than fear, until she saw that look in Jenner's eye. He was awaiting a chance to grab the gun he obviously had under the counter.

Her gold bracelet with diamond chips fell onto the smooth, wooden surface. The first day on the journey, the clasp had broken. Her next stop today was to have been the jewelers. The sparkly item instantly drew the gunman's attention.

This was the moment Jenner had been waiting for—when he saw the nearest gunman take his eyes off the cash drawer, in order to retrieve the bracelet. At that moment, the old man went for his gun. Jenner's hand returned into view, armed with a .45. Before he had a chance to fire, the gunman put a bullet near the old man's heart. The gun dropped from his hand, onto the counter, while Jenner fell to the floor.

In that same instant, Calleigh lunged for Jenner's gun and with one shot, dropped the robber. While she meant that one to be a kill shot, she was kinder—and only wounded the younger boy.

Newly was on his way to the mercantile when he heard the shots. He knew Calleigh was in there and he also knew she was unarmed. _Why did I talk her out of taking her derringer!_ That thought repeatedly raced through his head, as fast as his legs raced carrying him to the store. With his gun drawn, he was ready when he burst through the door.

He came in low, ready to prepare for return fire; but there was no fire—there was hardly any sound at all. The first thing he saw, was the dead man in front of the counter. The second was the wounded man against the south wall.

"Calleigh!"

"I'm back here!" A slender hand waved from behind the wooden counter.

Newly rushed around to the back of the store. His lungs drew in a much-needed breath when he saw that his wife was okay. "Are you hit?"

"No, but Jenner is." Calleigh was doing her best to stop the bleeding, but she knew it was hopeless. " _Why_ did you have to do that?" It was only a whisper, but the old man still heard it.

"I wanted… you… to… to get home to those… little ones." He grimaced from the pain and tried to speak again, but it was too late.

Calleigh gently laid him on the floor, then took refuge in Newly's consoling arms.

 **TBC**


	2. Chapter 2 - Can I, Huh? Please!

**Separate Journeys**

 **Chapter 2**

 **Can I, Huh? Please!**

 **July 28th**

 **Dodge City, Kansas**

Why not?" Calleigh virtually bounced around the giant lawman, like a child around a Maypole. "It's a great idea!"

Matt stopped so suddenly, she fell into him. "In what universe, would your going with me to take a prisoner to Hays, be a good idea?"

Her blue eyes darted from side-to-side, as if the answer was hiding somewhere in the room. Calleigh licked her lips in a semi-nervous gesture, as her mind raced for an acceptable argument. "Well… we both have to go to Hays anyway; you with the prisoner and I have to testify on the McAllister robbery. I really don't want to take the train. If I went with you, it would be cheaper."

Matt let his weight drop mostly to one leg, while his hand rested on the same hip. "That's your argument—to save money?" There was a hint of disappointment on the Marshal's face, that his bright daughter would offer such a lame example. "We—who own one of the biggest horse ranches in Kansas; not to mention, the most successful restaurant this side of Denver-"

"Okay, okay!" Calleigh held up a hand to stop her dad's objections. "Scratch that, it was bad idea." She quickly bounced back, with a different tactic. "If you put me on a stagecoach, I would be traveling alone. That's dangerous for a woman. Especially a young… defenseless… frightened… woman."

Matt shot her a condescending look as he turned to leave the jail. "As long as you're armed, it's the rest of the world that's defenseless and-" He stopped with his hand on the opened door. "The last time _you_ were frightened, was when the Prairie Rose ran out of pie." He shoved his Stetson back on his head as he stepped out onto the boardwalk.

Not to be so easily deterred, Calleigh followed right along behind Dillon. "How about the fact that, we could spend some quality time together? You know—talking around a campfire. Riding along, side-by-side…"

"Yeah, just you me—and that idiot, Boomer Flasting." The lawman refused to break stride as he crossed Front Street.

The petite redhead buzzed around her dad, like a fly circling a sugar cube. "Exactly! Boomer won't shut up. In three days, he'll drive you crazy with all that babbling!"

"As opposed to _you_?" His tone was blunt, but it didn't slow down his pursuer's steps one iota. Despite her attempt to hamper the Marshal's walk, he reached the Prairie Rose. Matt held the door for his petulant child and followed her inside. With a nod of the head, he gave a silent signal to Tia that he would be at his regular table.

Calleigh settled into the oak chair with a heavy sigh. "I give up." She chewed at her lip, as she absently toyed with the linen napkin folded in front of her. "I just wanted to spend some quality time with you…but…" Another pitiful sigh followed her words.

"After dinner tonight, we'll go out in the backyard and play some horseshoes." He stared at the pathetic face across from him. "How's that for some quality time?"

"Fine." It was a simple, one syllable word. But the faint sniffle and heavy sigh, made it a heart-wrenching response.

Tia soon found her way to the table, ready to talk to her favorite customers. "Good afternoon, Marshal." When she turned her attention to the young woman, Calleigh's pitiful expression caused Tia to stumble over her greeting. "How are…Calleigh? Are you all right?"

"She's fine." Matt drawled in an attempt to cut the drama short. "Bring me the usual." He waved his hand in front of the desolate freckled face. "Calleigh, do you want some lunch, or are you too upset to eat?"

"Just coffee."

It only took a quick look at the two of them, for Tia to size up the problem. Knowing Calleigh the way she did, it was obvious that her friend was trying to talk her dad into something. From the look on the Marshal's face, Calleigh was not succeeding. "Miss Pry dropped off a couple of fresh peach pies and a chocolate pie, just today. The fruit pies were still warm from the oven. Can I get you a piece?"

Calleigh licked her lips and swallowed hard. She peered up at the young blonde under heavy lids. "No, Tia." Again, she uttered a woeful sigh, followed by a wistful reply. "Just the coffee, thanks."

Tia struggled to keep from laughing, especially when Matt slipped a wink past his daughter's view. "I'll have your dinner right out, Marshal."

Calleigh let her head droop so low, her face was no longer visible. Matt made another attempt to change the subject, but his daughter remained silent. "Doc told me that Grant Topper was getting better. He'll probably be able to get out of bed by the end of the week."

The girl lifted her head slowly, bringing her face up to his. It was time for the pièce de résistance. There it was! Not one, but _two_ tears: One slowly chasing the other down her cheek.

"Calleigh!" Matt leaned back into the heavy oak chair, but it wasn't far enough to get away from that face. He muttered something under his breath, as he tossed the coffee spoon onto the table. The shiny piece of silver clanked against the ironstone coffee cup. "Okay! Don't start that! You win—on _one_ condition." The young girl waited to hear what her final challenge would be. "Your mother has to approve."

Before his eyes, the small face transformed—from pathetic to cunning. " _Hmmmm…, Kitty doesn't fall for tears,_ she thought.

The Marshal—the big man that kept law and order in the wild city of Dodge; the same man that held the fastest gun against robbers, killers and would be assassins—this man stared at the one-hundred-pound female that had, once again, outmaneuvered him. "The least you could do, is _pretend_ to be grateful!"

Calleigh reached across the table, taking those huge, calloused hands in hers. She offered her sweetest smile. "Oh, Daddy, I am _so_ grateful!"

"Now it's 'Daddy'. You really _are_ pulling out all the stops today."

Tia returned with Matt's dinner and a slightly cooled piece of peach pie. She looked at the two of them and then offered a shrug and sympathetic smile to the defeated man. "I saw the tears. Sorry, Marshal."

"Yeah. Thanks, Tia." Being humiliated didn't deter his appetite. "You do realize that the only reason I gave in, was because I know your mother never will."

The determined redhead attacked the pie as if it was a mortal enemy. Being devious could really work up one's appetite. "She has weaknesses too."

"We'll see." A big chunk of steak disappeared into Matt's mouth, bringing only a moment of silence. "Why do you want to do this? And don't give me that 'quality time'."

Calleigh wiped the final remains of Edsel Pry's latest creation from the corners of her mouth. She then pushed back the empty plate, pulling the coffee cup closer. "I want to know what you do." She accepted his confused, skeptical expression.

"I've grown up with the Marshal, that roams the streets of Dodge City, keeping the city safe." She tapped her spoon against the cup and brought it to her lip, tasting the sweet residue. "I have watched you break up fights with those massive fists. I have seen you back down a group of rowdy, half drunken Texas cowboys."

Calleigh's smile lost some of its sparkle and took a sadder, more pensive light. "I have stood, holding my breath, while you faced someone in the middle of Front Street." There was the faintest of tremors that shook her cup when she paused to take a drink. "Growing up, you were gone frequently. I always wondered what you did on those trips. What was it like to sleep on the ground; to travel for days, with one eye open at night; to eat cold beans and drink bad coffee?"

Matt stared at the pretty young redhead. He had let the bite of steak sit on his tongue, too stunned to chew. Pushing it to one side of his mouth, he slowly began to break down the meat. "Is there _anything_ in this world that does not pique your curiosity?"

"Not much!" Sometimes her words just seemed to bubble out. This was one of those times. "Especially things about my family. About the past." A sly grin grew wide under that string of freckles. "Yours and Kitty's past. You _know_ I have always been enamored of your relationship."

"That's why you were so insistent on that fiasco at the Long Branch?"

"Exactly!"

Matt returned to his steak. Now, he actually felt kind of bad that she wouldn't get to go. But, three days on the road, sleeping on the ground, _with_ a prisoner in tow...? Nope! Kitty would _never_ go for that.

 **TBC**


	3. Chapter 3 -Matt's Confession

**Separate Journeys**

 **Chapter 3**

 **Matt's Confession**

"YOU SAID _WHAT_!" The giant Marshal of Dodge City stood with his mouth gaping open as he watched his wife calmly walk over to the stove and pour herself a cup of coffee.

"I gave her my blessing." Kitty blew softly against the steaming cup, but opted to wait a moment before drinking. "Matt, she's an adult. It's not like Hadley, where I still have the right to tell her what she can and cannot do."

"Oh, stop! You're the _ONLY_ person in this world that can get her to do—or not do—anything." Matt brushed his hands through his hair, a definite sign of his frustration. "We'll be on the road for three days, Kitty. Sleeping on the cold ground. Not _camping_ , like you and I did-"

Soft lips settled over his, to quiet his words. As she pulled back, Kitty whispered in his ear. "I certainly hope it's _not_ like our trip." One last kiss blessed his cheek, then she returned to her coffee.

Once again, his wife had left him speechless. His body was enjoying the journey down memory lane, while his mind struggled to get back to the conversation at hand. _What were we talking about?_ _Oh, yeah, The Trip._ "Did you remember, we will be taking a _prisoner_ to Hays? This is not a vacation."

Kitty turned, one hand found a home on her hip, while her body transformed into a challenging stance. "A prisoner!" Despite her haughty tone, the word itself held no threat. It lacked the cold-blooded inference that Matt had spoken. "As in… Boomer Flasting?" The name fell from her lips like the punch line from a really bad joke.

Matt suddenly felt the need to defend himself. "He's a criminal! He was convicted of a shooting-involved robbery..."

"He robbed the livery stable!" She paused to emphasize the absurdity of the crime. "Who—in their right mind—'robs' a livery stable? And... Boomer was the one who was shot!" As the pretty redhead waited patiently for her husband to think up a logical response, she added, "He's going to prison for one year—probably for his _own_ safety. The next time he tries to rob someone, he's liable to get killed!"

The Dillon kitchen became very quiet. Kitty's footsteps brushed softly across the wood floor as she returned to the stove and poured a second cup of coffee. She held out the cup to her husband as a peace offering.

"Thanks." Matt accepted the coffee—and the fact that he'd lost the argument—graciously.

"Why are you so adamant about this? You know Calleigh. She won't let go of something until she sees it through." Kitty walked back to the oak table, taking a seat across from the brooding male. "If she has to go, this is a perfect scenario. Who could be a more docile prisoner, than Boomer? He won't be trying to escape and it's not like he has someone that will be coming after him. There's no danger."

"Yeah, I guess." The words reeked of defeat, but not a hint of acceptance. Matt stared at the face that he loved, unable to stop himself from stroking her cheek. "I love you."

She turned her head, leaving a kiss to his palm. While loving his gesture, she was confused as to its origin. "I love you too. Is something else wrong?" Kitty caught the glint in his eyes before he had a chance to hide it. "What? Matt, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I was…just thinking. I hate leaving you, even for only a few days." In an effort to avoid her scrutiny, he rose quickly, pretending to refresh his coffee.

Kitty pondered his words and his actions. For twenty years, he had been leaving her because of his job. Sometimes only for a day, sometimes, more than a week—even a month—on rare occasions. Why now, was he suddenly so concerned? She fought against the answer, but it was too obvious to ignore. "Is there some reason you don't want for Calleigh to go when you do?"

Matt leaned back against the kitchen sink, feigning innocence, as he sipped the black liquid. "No. I just know she keeps you company when I'm gone. Besides, she doesn't have to be in Hays until Thursday. She could take the train and be there in one day."

The oak chair uttered a screech, as she pushed away from the table. Kitty walked across the room, taking a stand directly in front of her husband. She took the cup from his hand, placing it on the counter behind him, before leaning in and wrapping her arms around his waist. " _You_ want her to wait and go later, so that she can stay home, in order to protect …me—and the kids. That sound about right, Marshal?"

"Of course not! That's _my_ job." Matt was enjoying her body pressing up against his, but he was suspicious of her actions...though that thought quickly dissolved, as his lips were assaulted again by her sweet mouth.

Kitty raised up on her toes for better access. While one hand wrapped around his neck, the other traveled slowly downward, awakening the rest of his body. "And you do it…soooo…well." The tip of her tongue skimmed along the shell of his ear.

He uttered a groan, that was a mix of need and delight, when her hand slipped inside the canvas material—encasing his hardness in her long, slender fingers. In a breathless voice, he tried to determine her objective. "Kitty, sweetheart… Please… don't tease..." Words failed him when she stroked him again. He swallowed hard, his voice so strained it was not much more than a primitive grunt. "Not fair…oohhh, Kitty!"

She brought her lips to his ear again. He could feel her sweet breath on his cheek, as her hand continued to caress his swelling body. "Tell me the truth; do you, or do you not, want Calleigh here to protect us when you're gone?"

Lids closed slowly over his already glazed blue eyes: The truth could possibly end this ecstasy; but a lie… could lead to a _really_ long dry spell.

"Yes," he whispered. "It's just...she's so fast."

Kitty lowered her face to hide her smile. For such a big man, he was so easy to manipulate. She knew she should be angry with him for using their daughter like that. But, the truth was, despite Kitty's dislike for guns, the only person she really felt safe with, besides Matt, was Calleigh.

Matt buried his face in the curve of her neck. His voice was heavy with desire, his speech breathless. "Kitty. Honey…let's go upstairs. _Please!_ "

"Anytime you're ready, Cowboy." By the time she uttered the last word, he had scooped her up into his arms and was taking the stairs, two at a time.

 **O'BrianO'BrianO'Brian**

"This is all wrong." Newly's voice had actually reached a whining pitch. "I should be the one taking Boomer to Hays and accompanying you to the trial."

Calleigh took a seat on the sofa, snuggling close, but careful not to disturb his injured leg. She offered her most comforting voice. "Oh, baby, I know you want to go with me, but you can't travel on that leg." A kiss ushered in her words.

"Stupid horse." Newly gently lifted his leg, rearranging it on the footstool to make it more comfortable. "I still can't believe he stepped on me!"

"It was a freak accident. You tripped at just the right time and that poor animal stepped back at the wrong time—or is it the other way around?" As she tried to hold in a grin, Calleigh ran her fingers through Newly's hair and kissed his cheek. "You're lucky it's not broken. In a week—which is not time at all—you'll be up and around."

"Who's going to take care of me while you're gone?" Newly's words literally oozed self-pity. "We could wire Judge Brooker… Tell him I'm injured and you can't come to the trial."

Calleigh squirmed around to face her husband. "Newly O'Brian! Jenner Pickens lost his life defending me. I owe it to him to testify against Hyatt Tumbler." The truth caused the deputy to wince from something other than the pain in his leg. Wide brown eyes expressed his shame for whining like a baby.

"I'm sorry." He lifted her hand to his lips. "Mr. Pickens-"

"Just Jenner." She corrected, with a bittersweet smile—as the memory of her first meeting with the old man suddenly surfaced.

"I know I could never repay him for what he did, but at least your testimony will help."

"To answer your question," she continued, "Poppy will be taking care of you."

" _Doc_!?" Those same brown eyes regressed back to self-pity. "I love him, but when he's doctoring he's so…so… _gruff_. Just have Cooper come and stay. I just need someone to fetch things for me."

"I'll compromise. Both of them will stay and I'm sure Kitty will be hovering over you and bringing your meals."

The eyes softened again. "Hmmm. Kitty's cooking and Cooper fetching; that might not be so bad after all." Newly pulled his wife closer, wincing only slightly when he forgot about his leg. "I still wish I could go with you."

"So do I." She snuggled closer, sprinkling kisses along his cheek. "Just keep thinking about the great homecoming we'll have."

 **TBC**


	4. Chapter 4 - Boomer Flasting

**Separate Journeys**

 **Chapter 4**

 **Boomer Flasting**

Doc finished cleaning the wound and replaced the bandage. "Is it giving you much pain, Boomer?"

The small man stretched his neck a little, to pull the muscle along his shoulder. "No, Doc. It's feeling pretty good. How's that deputy doing? I sure was sorry about him getting hurt thatta way."

"Yeah." Doc pulled his wire rims from his face and returned them to his pocket. "That _was_ pretty strange. Exactly how again, did ya come to knock him down?"

Boomer's pale grey eyes grew wide, as he released a long weary breath. "I rightly don't know. He just kinda came outta nowhere, an' I runned into him."

"Now Boomer, that's not, perzactly the truth of it all." Festus appeared at the door of the cell with a tray in his hand. "You was a runnin', after robbin' ol' Moss and lookin' behind yer ownself to see if'n he was follerin ya. That ther's why ya runned right inta Newly, knockin' him inta the path of his own horse."

"Yeah, come to think of it, it did happen perty much thatta way..." Boomer nodded, as he sat up on the cot. Right at the moment, he was much more interested in the tray that Festus had brought in. "Whatcha got there, Festus? Did you make sum a that stew again?"

"Yur sure plum in luck today, Boomer. I caught a mess o'catfish! Biggest ones you ever seed."

Boomer stepped toward the bars. "I catched one once that was soooo big, I could barely drag it home on a travois behind my horse!"

Doc pulled himself to his feet. He was not going to be caught in the middle of a conversation between these two. Festus was bad enough, but that Boomer Flasting… was the biggest liar in Ford County—probably the whole state of Kansas—if the truth be told.

If he couldn't uphold that title, then he definitely came in * ** _First Place*_** for the unluckiest man in the whole state. Boomer was the fifth son, born to Stag and Winnie Flaster; all five born under an unlucky star: Miggs, the oldest, was killed when he accidentally threw his cigar into a box of dynamite. They couldn't even scrape together enough to have a proper burial.

Restlie was next; he fared a little better in his journey toward death. Bass Holcomb had sold him a bad batch of moonshine. After drinking the whole bottle; Restlie just went to sleep… and never woke up.

Prawlie was the middle son. His death was somewhere between Miggs' and Restlie's. He got a job on a cattle drive; but like his older brother, he had a weakness for shine too. The night he was supposed to be keeping watch, he got drunk, started firing his gun, and passed out. Problem was, his gunfire started a stampede. They figured he didn't feel a thing—as he was passed out when the cattle ran him down; but like Miggs, there sure wasn't much left to bury.

For a while it looked like the fourth boy, Tipper, was actually going to reach twenty-something none of his older brothers had managed. He really should have thought twice though, before taking that job in a circus. For a man following a jinxed line of siblings, cleaning tiger and bear cages was an extremely poor choice of professions.

A couple of winters back, Stag and Winnie were caught in a white-out and neither of them was ever found. The town folk searched for them after the blizzard, but there wasn't a trace. Most people figured animals got them; but it was too gruesome a thought to ponder on.

So, at the ripe old age of twenty-one—which was an accomplishment in itself—Boomer Flasting was all alone. It was doubtful that he would ever be killed on the job, since Boomer rarely worked. He had already done six months in prison. Sadly, the wiry young man often spoke of those months, as the best of his life: A place to sleep, daily food, and shelter from the cold. That's why he quickly pled guilty, and was on his way to Hays, so that Judge Brooker could officially sentence him back to prison.

Robbing the livery stable had seemed like a good idea at the time. Moss Grimmick was usually gone during the supper hour and Boomer, along with everyone else, knew where the money box was kept.

By then, Boomer even had a gun. Late one Saturday afternoon while fishing, he saw something half buried in the mud by Willigers Pond. Boomer had eagerly dug it out, excited to finally have a gun of his own. He'd had a hard time getting the bullets into the rusted cylinder, but when he pounded them with a rock, they finally went in.

The robbery started going wrong, when Boomer got side-tracked from his mission, right from the beginning. He found some horehound candy in one of the drawers and was just finishing up the bag when Moss returned early from supper. The towheaded boy didn't want to hurt the old man, so he aimed the gun toward the ground—just to scare him.

When the gun wouldn't fire, Moss realized what the boy was trying to do. The stableman became angry and started to chase Boomer. In the confusion, the young man was still clicking the hammer—as his hand was swinging wild with every running step.

The weapon did finally go off, and the fledgling outlaw fired his one and only shot—into his own shoulder. It was pain that caused him to run faster—and fear that made him look back, instead of forward; and it was Newly's bad luck to be standing in Boomer's path, while the boy was attempting his great escape.

Doc closed up his black bag and slipped out of the cell, leaving Festus and Boomer to argue over the biggest fish. He started to say good-bye—but the lies were getting so deep, he simply waved them off and shuffled out the door.

 **TBC**


	5. Chapter 5 - Sweet Goodbyes

**Separate Journeys**

 **Chapter 5**

 **Sweet Goodbyes**

"Get them all tucked in?" Matt pounded the pillow into shape and shoved it behind his head.

Kitty cast her husband a disapproving glance. "You mean after _you_ go along getting each of them excited with your tickling and teasing?" As she walked around to the opposite side of the bed, she took off her robe and tossed it onto the chair. "Sometimes, it's hard to tell which of you is the biggest kid."

His boyish grin emerged as he threw back her side of the blanket and patted the empty space. "Hey little girl, you wanta come play with me?" Before she had a chance to respond, either way, Matt grabbed her hand and pulled her down with a thud.

"Was it the tickling, or the teasing, that you were complaining about?" To make his point, his hands began to move rapidly along her body, touching, tickling, forcing her into fits of laughter. Kitty gasped for a breath, in between her appeals for him to stop.

Matt took mercy on his prey when she actually seemed to be struggling for air. Kitty fell back onto her side of the bed when he released her. During the few minutes it took for her to regain control, he brushed the stray, red locks from her face, leaving kisses in their place.

She squirmed around to face her tormentor. "I guess that answers my question." Kitty paused, taking one more relaxing breath. "YOU are the biggest kid!"

"Kid, huh? I'll show you kid!" Matt rolled over, pinning his wife's slender body beneath his, while his lips claimed hers. The marshal's tongue slipped into her warm mouth, teasing and tasting. For the second time tonight, he left her gasping for breath, but for a very different reason.

Dillon raised up, balancing his body on one elbow. With his free hand, he let his fingers trail down her cheek. "You are so beautiful. Have I told you that?"

Heavy lids shyly covered her sapphire eyes. "You have. But, you're a little biased."

Matt let his finger slide under her chin, forcing her to look at him. "I'm a little lucky." Those were the last words he uttered, as his lips closed over hers again. There was nothing childish about his actions as he took control of her body.

…Her body that eagerly surrendered to his touch. Once more, her breath became shallow, as his mouth slowly trailed down her neck, coming to rest on the fullness of her breast. Sucking on the dark, pink center, teasing it with his tongue, until her hips began to undulate, begging for attention.

Matt was never one to ignore her request, even a silent one. With a kiss to each breast, he continued his move down to the core of her desire. Long, powerful fingers found their way to her warm center, evoking a sweet breath, hidden in a soft moan. While he stretched and reached—touching that perfect spot—he moved into a better position.

Kitty sucked in a sharp breath, that quickly morphed into a whimper, as he stroked the coveted pearl. Matt knew his Kitten; he knew exactly when, exactly where—and how long—before her body would give up its control. He was using that knowledge to make her body quiver. To draw out those quick, sudden breaths and sweet moans.

The feel of her inner muscles contracting, caused his own body to become painfully hard. With her urging, Matt moved up, slowly entering her warm, wet center. Now it was his deep voice, growling her name. Their bodies began to move together, in a familiar rhythm. It always began slow and sensual, just like tonight—then ended in an explosion of ecstatic light.

He fell forward, careful not to hurt her, but not ready to separate from such ecstasy. When he started to roll away from her, Kitty quickly wrapped her legs around him. "Not yet," she whispered. "Please, not yet."

Matt framed her face with his huge hands. "Did I tell you, you are beautiful?" Again, she responded with a smile. "Did I also tell you how much I love you?"

Her response was to pull his face down for a kiss. "I love you too, more than you know." Kitty finally released his body and Matt rolled over next to his slightly petulant wife. "I'll miss you."

"We shouldn't be gone much over a week." He assured her, while letting his hands roam possessively over her body.

"I know. You would think after all these years, I would be used to it." She traced his lips with the tip of her finger. "Are you worried about Calleigh testifying?"

Matt made a sudden move to bite at her fingers, while Kitty instinctively snatched them back and started to laugh. "No, it seems pretty open and shut. Don't tell her this, but I'm glad she's going with me. She's right. We don't get to spend enough time together."

Kitty snuggled closer, still enjoying his wandering hands. "Be careful, Cowboy. You might just have to perform again."

Matt growled in her ear, "Is my Kitten growing into a tiger?" Words led to kisses, which led to two bodies finding their way back to ecstasy.

 **TBC**


	6. Chapter 6 - Russ Tumbler

**Separate Journeys**

 **Chapter 6**

 **Russ Tumbler**

Moss Grimmick walked out to the street, just as the stranger climbed down from his black quarter horse. He brushed his hand down the coal black mane and whispered a kind word.

"He's a good looking horse." Moss took a step closer to the animal.

The younger man smiled, looked briefly at the old man and then back to his horse. "Yes he is. Solid black. Not a white mark on him."

"You wantin' a stall for him?"

"I would. Could you give him a little extra feed and rub him down? We've had a long ride."

"Sure can. It'll cost you a little extra, though." The man looked at Moss, obviously waiting for the price. "…Twenty-cents more."

"Go right ahead, he's worth it. Can you direct me to a good hotel and restaurant in town?"

"Straight up that way, you got your choice of Delmonico's, or the Prairie Rose. The first one is cheaper, but the second one is better. Best hotel would be the Dodge House. Across the street and down there." Moss reached over to take the horse's reins. "You in Dodge on business…" Moss paused, allowing his tone to ask the question, "…Mister-?"

"Tumbler. Russ Tumbler. I'm actually on my way to Texas to look at some horses. Just thought I would take a couple of days to rest. We've come a long ways. Well… much abliged." He readjusted his hat, pushing it back further on his head and walked toward the restaurant.

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Nettie took notice of the man's sandy hair. It wasn't quite red, but it wasn't blonde either—just a mix of the two. When he looked up, she found herself staring into deep-set green eyes. Even though the color was bright, like a blade of summer grass, they appeared weary.

"I hear this is the best restaurant in town." The weariness carried over to his voice. Not too deep, not too rough, but way too sad.

Between his weary eyes and voice, Nettie felt the need to overcompensate with an extra-cheerful greeting. "Actually, we're the best this side of Denver." She leaned closer with a playful grin. "I'm betting on the other side as well."

He glanced at the red lettering on her white apron. "Nettie, is it?" She nodded, causing the blonde curls to bounce around her face. Her youthful exuberance did bring a smile to his lips. "Well, Nettie. What do you recommend?"

"You look like you've been traveling a ways." The pert smile curved into a thoughtful grin. "That causes a body to grow real hungry. I would have to recommend a big, thick, juicy steak. We have great fried chicken, but for a hungry man…" Nettie leaned closer. "…I'd go with the steak…and all the trimmings," she added quickly.

 _Dodge sure seems to be a friendly town_ , he thought. 'You know that sounds exactly like what I need. Could I have a cup of coffee to go with that?"

He watched her scurry away, such a tiny little thing. First, she took the order back to the kitchen, then, reappeared at his table with a cup and a fresh pot of coffee. "Your food will be right out." Just as she turned, the stranger grabbed for her hand. Nettie glanced back—first at the large, tan hand holding hers, then up to those sad, green eyes.

He released the young wrist instantly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to ask you a question." It didn't appear that an apology was needed, as she never displayed any fear. "My name is Russ Tumbler. I was told that Matt Dillon owned a horse ranch around here."

"The Marshal. Yes, sir, he does. It's the LadyK, just south of town. Are you here to buy some horses, Mr. Tumbler?"

"I was headed further south, but I heard of this Dillon ranch and thought I would look them over."

"It's easy to find. Take a left at the end of Front Street and follow that road out. You can't miss it." Nettie glanced back toward the kitchen. "Oh, your dinner is up. I'll be right back."

Nettie had been right. It was the best meal he had eaten for a long time. _And the condemned man ate a hearty meal._ The thought passed through Tumbler's mind, as he swallowed another morsel of the tender meat.

Russ Tumbler wished, with all of his heart, that he could walk out of the Prairie Rose and just keep riding. Maybe go down to Texas. Just start his life over. Russ pushed his empty plate aside, just as Nettie appeared to refill his coffee. She reminded him of that little Waverly girl that lived down the road from home.

 _From the home he had lost,_ Russ thought, as he mumbled a thank you. It took him ten long years to build that little farm into something decent. Now it was gone and all he had left was a spoiled, worthless little brother and a pair of devastated parents. Russ was a devoted son, if nothing else. Sadly enough, his folks were just as devoted…but, unfortunately, it was to the baby of the family.

He finished his coffee and dropped some money on the table, leaving a healthy sum for Nettie.

"We open at six a.m. for breakfast, Mr. Tumbler," the young waitress called to her customer, as he was walking out the front door.

Russ wanted to return her smile, but he just didn't have it in him. A nod was the most he could muster. He drew in a deep breath and started the short walk back to the Dodge House. _Damn that stupid kid!_ But if that girl testified, Hyatt would hang.

It was a beautiful night, just enough of a breeze to welcome the comfortably cool air. Brilliant light, from the stars and full moon, was enough to illuminate his path. Despite the serenity surrounding him, he could still hear his mother crying and the humble begging from a feeble old man: "You have to save him! Please Russ, he's only a boy."

He stopped and leaned against the wooden post of the boardwalk. Russ pressed his forehead against the hard wood, hoping to push those voices out of his head. But, they wouldn't leave him alone. There would be no peace for the man that was going to have to bring chaos—and possibly death—to the Dillon family.

 **TBC**


	7. Chapter 7 - Day 1

**Separate Journeys**

 **Chapter 7**

 **Day 1**

Boomer was explaining to Calleigh about the time he swam across the Arkansas. "Yes sir, I saw that wagon sinkin' and I know'd I had to help that woman and her youngin'. I told that woman to wrap her arms around my neck. I tucked that little guy under my arm an' I took off, paddling as fast as I could, to get 'em safe." The scrawny young man whistled under his breath. "Yes sir. I swum for at least _two_ hours."

Calleigh's blue eyes slid to one side, stealing a glance at her dad. She watched Matt Dillon roll his eyes for the umpteenth time today, and grit his teeth. She worked her mouth, pulling it tight to smother a laugh.

But Boomer wasn't done. "Did I mention the puppy they had-"

"OH, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!" Matt stiffened in his saddle, his body puffing up as if it were about to explode. " **Boomer** -"

"Boomer..." Calleigh's soft voice quickly interceded. "Sometimes the Marshal gets a headache after riding awhile. Maybe we should just be quiet."

The young man shrugged, causing his shaggy blonde hair to fall into his eyes. "I shur know about headaches. Why one time-" Something in the way the Marshal turned, those piercing blue eyes targeting him, convinced the boy to keep that tidbit of knowledge to himself.

Calleigh pulled away from the prisoner, bringing Belle closer to Buck. Still only brave enough to sneak a peak, she could see her dad's nostrils flare when he took a breath.

"Is this some of that quality time you were talking about?!" His voice was a perfect match for his attitude. "Or does that come later!"

She reached over, giving his forearm a gentle squeeze. "Anytime I'm with you is quality."

And that was all it took to break down the big man's reserve. He released a heavy sigh that let his irritation escape. "That stream I told you about is just a few miles up the road. Are you about ready to stop for the night?"

"You're the boss here. Do you want me to ask Boomer if he wants to stop?"

Matt pursed his lips as he contemplated his little girl. "Don't push it."

The three rode along in blessed silence, the few miles it took to reach the resting spot. Father and daughter pulled their gear down to make camp. Meanwhile, Boomer wandered through the brambles toward the stream.

Matt relieved Buck of the saddle, and then found a flat spot for it and his bedroll. He stepped over to Belle and gently pushed Calleigh aside. "Let me get this for you."

"Thanks. Do you do this for all your traveling mates?"

He laid her gear close to his, then stepped back to the horses. "No, just the cute, redheaded ones. You gonna make coffee?"

"That is the one thing I _can_ cook. What about supper?"

Matt arched his brows, wondering how to get out of this politely. "Yeah...well, I've had more experience cooking over a fire. I'll do it."

Calleigh grinned as she leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Good save. I'll go find the prisoner."

"No, that's my job. Besides, I need to gather some firewood."

 ** _MBCMBCMBCMBCMBCMBC_**

Boomer stood at the edge of the stream, amazed at the number of fish squirming around the bottom toward the rocks. For some reason, that Marshal was upset with him, 'though, he had no idea why. Could be, Calleigh was right and he just had a bad headache. If he could catch a mess o' fish, that would prob'ly put the big man in a good mood.

The scraggly boy glanced around at the trees and brambles. He needed a pole. A hefty branch would work fine. A shine came to his eyes when he spotted a puny little tree, growing right in the middle of the bramble patch. Boomer checked out the little shoots coming off the slender trunk until he found the perfect one. The problem that presented itself right away, was how to cut it loose. After careful consideration, without any tools, he decided his best bet…was to break it off at the trunk.

Matt glanced back at his daughter as she rummaged through his saddlebags for the coffee. He'd forgotten to tell her that the pot was in his bedroll, but she would figure it out. She certainly was excited.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all. Matt contemplated the trip so far, as he gathered the kindling. They had talked some on the road; and he was sure she was going to be delving into his past, as well as Kitty's, later on tonight. Dillon reached down under the brambles, raking up an arm full of twigs and loose branches. A sudden noise on the other side of the brush caught his attention and he stood up to see what was going on.

Boomer had pulled the branch back as far as he could—even bracing one leg against the trunk, in an attempt to bust it loose. He was giving it one last pull, when he saw something in the brambles. The sudden movement frightened the boy and he started to run, releasing the branch to get away.

Calleigh bolted upright when the air around her exploded with the primal scream of a wounded animal. It ricocheted through the trees, taking on a life of its own. Her first thought was a bear; what other animal could make a raucous growl like that? Her second thought was: _Matt_!? Had he been attacked?

Adrenaline pumped the blood through her veins, blocking out all rational thought—except to get to her Dad. Praying that it was not a bear attack, Calleigh tore through the brambles, stumbling over the massive body. She crawled to her feet, stunned; her heart still beating in her ears, she watched the downed body rise up on his elbows.

It was NOT a bear!

The screaming had stopped, bringing with it a terrifying silence. Calleigh stared at her Dad, trying to identify the bold, red stripe running across his forehead. His eyes were rolling around, like two blue marbles in a jar. A touch of self-preservation was seeping back into her body, as she cautiously leaned forward.

Matt was conscious, but definitely not alert. He was sitting upright—blank eyes staring straight ahead, while brandishing a goofy smile. Delicate hands of a physician gently checked out the wound. Luckily, the skin had not been broken, but this was going to leave a _hell_ of a lump. The faint rustle of leaves caused Calleigh to glance over her shoulder.

Boomer stared at the big man. He had the same empty look, but it was from birth—not an accident. "Do ya think that branch hit him?"

Calleigh softly shook her head. Boomer was either the most innocent boy she had ever seen, or the most ignorant; possibly a combination of the two. "Yeah, I think maybe it did, Boomer." She got to her feet and held the boy by the chin to make sure he was listening. "Watch him while I go get a pallet ready for him."

She rushed back to the campsite and was hurrying to pull the supplies from the bedroll. Just as she shook out the wool blanket, the air was, once again, bombarded with a series of boisterous shouts. Calleigh was back to the stream in a split-second, but—again—she was too late.

Matt sat in the stream, cold water rushing past his dazed body.

"Boomer! what happened?" Calleigh stepped up to the edge of the stream.

"Well he, uh…started to git up and he was shur dizzy. I was tryin' to help and…" Once again, he relied on a simple shrug. "Guess I couldn't hold him."

"Yeah, I guess." Calleigh rolled up her pants and stepped into the water. "Get his arm. Let's get him back to the camp."

Somehow, two people—that put together weren't as big as the Marshal—managed to maneuver him to the campsite. Calleigh sent Boomer for firewood while she stripped her dad of his wet shirt, undershirt and canvas pants. She then sat him up against his saddle and tucked a blanket around him.

He continued to stare at her with beautiful, blue—but glassy—eyes. The silly grin was still the focal point of his handsome face. Occasionally he would utter a word or two, but so far, none of them had been coherent. One thing she knew for sure, Boomer was not long for this life.

Calleigh sent Boomer to the stream to get some wet cloths for Matt's forehead. When she let go of her dad in order to get a fire started, he began to slowly slide to one side. She quickly stepped back and pushed him again into an upright position.

Boomer finally returned with the wet cloth and more kindling. "Want me to start a far going?"

The little redhead's blue eyes traveled from Matt, to Boomer, to the pile of kindling—and back to Matt. "Can you do that, without burning down the whole campsite?"

Boomer brushed his hand aside, as if to sweep away her doubts. "Why, I built this far once-"

"Boomer!" Calleigh shook her head as she tried to steady her Dad. "Not now. Just get a small fire going." She propped Matt up and wiped his face with a cool, wet rag, before folding it and laying it across his forehead.

Although she didn't leave her Dad's side, she kept a close eye on the prisoner. Surprisingly enough, he did manage to build a small, but decent fire. It took about an hour, but Matt was finally able to sit up on his own. Calleigh stepped away from him long enough to make coffee.

"Calleigh?" His voice was weak, but it was an improvement. Heavy lids rose and fell slowly over curious blue eyes. He couldn't even put into words the rapid fire of questions that were bombarding his brain.

"Now, Matt, just stay calm." His daughter gently pushed him back against the saddle. "You took quite a smack to the head. You need to stay still."

"What …happened?" He reached up, wincing again when his fingers brushed the swollen, red flesh. "Did someone attack us?" A flash of panic swept across his face. He reached forward, moving too fast for his bruised head to accept. "Ouch!…oh… Honey, are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Just lay back. I'll get you a cup of coffee. You just sit still!"

Calleigh walked over to the fire and poured a cup of coffee for her Dad. "Boomer, why don't you just… kind of stay over here. Sooner or later, he's gonna figure out what happened." She glanced over her shoulder at Matt. "When he does… he's not going to be happy."

She returned with the coffee and helped Matt get a good grasp on the cup before she took her hands away. Calleigh reached past him and grabbed a handful of jerky. With a hapless smile, she offered him a piece. "I'd cook something, but I figure you feel bad enough."

He finished the coffee. With one hand, he held out the empty cup for a refill and with the other, took a piece of jerky. Matt watched her walk back to the small fire. She whispered something to Boomer and then returned.

"It was that idiot, wasn't it?" The Marshal's voice was eerily calm, as he reached up for the coffee. "Don't worry. I'm in no shape to kill him **now** , but I am going to ask Brooker to hang him."

Calleigh laughed and settled in next to him. "He was trying to do something nice for you. Boomer saw fish in the stream and was trying to pull off a branch to use for a pole. It smacked back and hit you in the head."

"Hmmm." He looked down at his partially-nude body cocooned in a blanket. His eyes asked the next question.

"Uh, you tried to get up while I was getting a pallet ready and…Boomer couldn't support you. You fell into the stream. I took your shirt, pants and undershirt off to dry."

"Miss Calleigh…"

"In a minute, Boomer. I guess this isn't how a normal trip to Hays goes, huh?"

"Uh, Miss Calleigh..."

Matt ignored the cursed little man. "Well, I'm used to getting shot at. Even stabbed but-"

"MISS CALLEIGH!"

" **What Boomer**!" Calleigh tried to be patient, but he had finally pushed her too far.

"I jest wanted ta tale ya…" He pointed back to the small blaze. "His clothes is on fire!"

"Damn!" Calleigh scrambled to her feet in a half crawl, half run, to the fire. She grabbed the pants and shirt. "Boomer, help me!" The two small bodies stomped furiously to stop the garments from burning. Once they had reduced the flames into piles of smoldering cloth, the young doctor looked at her dancing partner.

"I was gonna dry 'em out for him." Boomer scrunched his face into a sheepish grimace. "I guess I mighta got 'em a little too close."

Calleigh stared at the ground, needing a moment to dampen down her frustration. "Get your blanket. Come over here and settle down for the night."

She called to him once more, before walking away. "And Boomer? Don't sleep too close to the fire."

 **TBC**


	8. Chapter 8 - Day 2

**Separate Journeys**

 **Chapter 8**

 **Day 2**

Matt leveled a hateful gaze at his prisoner. The big lawman's head throbbed and his clothes smelled like wet, burnt rags. His shirt was scorched in several spots, one leg of his pants had a giant burn hole in the knee…AND he was starving.

Boomer quickly and quietly stepped out of the Marshal's path when he saw him heading for the fire Calleigh had rebuilt. "Coffee done?" Dillon growled at his daughter, while keeping a threatening eye on the dangerous little man.

"Here." She handed up a full cup. "How do you feel?"

"How does it _look_ like I feel! I've been bashed, drowned, and burned..." His eyes wandered back to the source of said torture, "My head hurts—and I'm hungry!"

Boomer opened his mouth, but before he could utter a sound, Matt's head whirled around as if on a spit. The boy choked the words back, and wilted into the background.

"I found some meat in your saddle bag. Kitty must have packed it. I think its… roast? She also threw in a few potatoes."

"Will they still look like roast and potatoes when you're done with them?" Matt took a long drink of Calleigh's coffee. "Well, you do make good coffee, at least." Finally; something that managed to mellow him out just a pinch.

"Uh, I'll boil the potatoes…? No, wait. There's a flat pan—I think that's what it is-"

"Oh for heaven's sakes!" Matt grabbed the food from his daughter's useless hands. "Get out of the way. Go use your true skills and see if you can surgically implant a brain in that idiot!"

Calleigh kept her distance, but stayed close enough to hand whatever item he might need. Boomer, much to his credit, stayed in the background.

To the girl's amazement, her father created a rather tasty meal, expertly roasting the pieces of meat and potatoes over the open fire. Calleigh was surprised when her dad offered a plate to the prisoner. Even though his grumbling was unintelligible, both of the younger people were pretty sure they knew what the big man was saying.

After eating and taking some headache pills, that Calleigh had brought in her little emergency kit, Matt began to act more human. They rested after breakfast, with a cup of coffee, before starting back on the road.

"Sorry you came?" For the first time this morning, Matt sounded like Matt.

"I don't think this is routine, but I'm still enjoying it. Well, I mean I'm sorry _you_ got hurt but…if I said it was still fun, would you not shoot me?"

"No, but I'm going to have your head checked when we get to Hays."

"I'm sure today will be better." Calleigh maintained her cheerful attitude.

Matt slipped his boot into the stirrup. "I hope so." He grabbed the horn and pulled himself up. Almost. Something went wrong and the saddle came sliding off, tossing the Marshal back onto the ground with a thud. Only the fact that it knocked the wind out of him, kept him from screaming. His face exploded into a crimson stain, bloated with rage.

Calleigh and Boomer looked at the giant man lying in the dirt and then fearfully at each other. The color was draining from the boy's face so fast, that Calleigh actually looked down to see if the blood was pooling around his feet.

The first gasp of air was enough for the Marshal to bellow—his anger spewing forth like the roar of a lion—one name: " **BOOMER!** When I get up from here, I am going to **beat you to death**!"

"Daddy, calm down. You don't know that this is his fault." Calleigh looked to Boomer for a nod, a shake of his head—any form of intelligent life. "Did you do something?" she whispered.

He started taking small steps backward, as he watched Matt struggle to pick himself up off the ground. "I was tryin' to fix his saddle fer him." Boomer winced and ducked his head. "I might have forgot to tighten that thar cinch quite enough."

Calleigh jumped in front of the big man. "Daddy! Don't hurt him. He was trying to help."

"YOU!" Matt pointed to the walking jinx. "YOU! YOU!" The more he repeated the single word, the more frightened Boomer became. " **Stay! Away! From! Me!** Don't touch me. Don't touch my things. Don't breathe my air. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir." The frightened boy stepped closer to Calleigh, as he tried to get to his horse. "I'll just wait over there."

Calleigh literally scurried around the small camp, gathering their gear and quickly packing it all away. She tried to anticipate the Marshal's moves, to either stay out of his way, or be of assistance. Matt made sure Buck's saddle was properly cinched, then angrily climbed on.

The devoted daughter looked at the giant man in the saddle. The welt on his face was bright red and stood out like some sort of massive growth, clinging to his forehead. His clothes were torn, burnt and smelled really bad. Would Hays be disappointed, or shocked, by this version of the iconic Marshal Matt Dillon?

"What are you looking at?" Matt's growl pulled Calleigh out of her reverie.

There were a few seconds of stammering, before she gathered her wits. "Nothing. I was just wondering if I had remembered to get everything."

"Let's get going. If you want that halfwit to make it to Hays alive, you keep him away from me!" Somehow, the fact that Boomer was actually Matt's responsibility, had gotten lost in the bedlam.

Calleigh mounted Belle and motioned for Boomer to keep his distance behind them.

 **TBC**


	9. Chapter 9 - Family Obligations

**Separate Journeys**

 **Chapter 9**

 **Family Obligations**

Kitty settled the little redhead on her lap to help her dress Bootsie in his new clothes. "That was very nice of Bess to make these for Bootsie."

Hadley leaned back into Kitty's chest and rubbed the top of her curly head under her momma's chin. Little hands slipped up behind her own head touching and petting the woman's cheeks. "Uh-huh. I like Bess."

Kitty laughed, as she pulled the knitted pants onto the furry, stuffed animal. "Why aren't you helping Momma?"

"You do it." Instead of helping, Hadley twisted around and pulled herself up into a standing position on Kitty's lap, as she threw her arms around her Momma's neck. "Love you, Momma."

"I love you too, Baby Girl." The kisses were sloppy and numerous, but Kitty thought they were the greatest thing on earth. She finally finished dressing the battered bear and quickly straightened out his new suit. The poor little creature had been chewed on, slobbered over and undoubtedly peed on. Bootsie had been washed so many times, his features were blurred. But, he held that irreplaceable position in Hadley's heart. "There. How does he look?"

"Oooh… He so pwetty." One more kiss came before she scrambled off her mother's lap and climbed onto her new horsy tricycle. Cooper gave her a little shove, until her chubby little legs could push the pedals. Off she went, headed toward the napping old physician. "Poppy, see? Bootsie gots new cose."

Cooper walked over to take Hadley's abandoned spot with his Momma. "That was nice of Mrs. Ronniger to make clothes for Bootsie. He's got a lot of bare spots." The voice was sad, the sigh heavy.

Kitty could see the woeful smile on his little face. "Okay." She pulled herself to her feet. "Let's take a walk, so you can tell me what's wrong."

She called to Doc, as Matt's little clone slipped his hand into hers. "Doc, are you going to be here for a while?"

"Yeah, I gave Newly something for the pain. He'll be out for a while." He scooped up the girl and her bear. "We'll be fine."

The two began their journey up the dirt road. Cooper casually kicked at the loose rocks, as they sauntered along. He was so much like his father, not only in looks, but in mannerisms. The boy had inherited Matt's quiet ways and Kitty knew to bide her time until he was ready to talk.

She gazed at her precious baby boy. He was so different from the girls. So quiet. So thoughtful and so easy. Unlike his sisters, Cooper was uncomplicated. Kitty prayed with all her heart that he would not follow in his father's footsteps in his choice of career.

Despite the fear and jealousy she had suffered over the years with that mistress of a badge, Kitty was proud of her husband. She was proud of his integrity, his desire to protect and his unyielding respect for the law. But, Kitty desperately did not want this for her son. She did not want to see his soul beaten and bruised, or his body scarred and broken. Like his father's.

At last, he looked up at his mother and was ready to talk. "I wish I could hurry and grow up."

Kitty began to swing their clasped hands. "Why are you in such a hurry? I thought you were having a good time being a little boy."

"I am, I guess."

"Is there something in particular that you feel you're too little for?"

"Kind of." Cooper mulled over the problem, while Kitty waited patiently. "I wish I could go with daddy, like Calleigh and Newly do."

"It's Newly's job. He has to go with daddy. And Calleigh…" This would take some thinking to explain.

He cocked his head to one side and offered a slight giggle. "I heard daddy tell you she cried. He doesn't like it when girls cry, does he?"

"I would have to say that is your daddy's one weakness." Kitty tried to hide her smile. She was probably the worst offender. "Is that why you're so sad?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Wouldn't you rather go on a fishing trip, than to take a prisoner to Hays?" She raised the hand to her lips, kissing the small, smooth knuckles. "Because I think I could arrange something like that."

Cooper's face lit up. "You could do that?"

 _All I have to do is cry_ , she thought, only slightly ashamed _._ "I do have some influence with the Marshal, you know?"

He grinned up at her, satisfied that she would fulfill her promise. "We're at the end of the road. Wanta go back?"

"If you're ready, little man."

 **DodgeDodgeDodge**

Russ thanked Moss for taking such good care of his horse and then led him outside. He nuzzled the animal, before climbing on. "How about it, Coal? Was that man nice to you?" The ebony steed whinnied, as though he indeed liked the old man.

After getting directions once again, this time from Moss, he headed out toward the LadyK. The sun was bright, but not brutal. If he could pick a perfect temperature, it would be like today—warm on his face, without being cruel.

He was amazed at how quickly the landscape changed, once he got out of town. As he left behind the dirt streets and colorless buildings, the plains exploded with color, along with fields of green grass, as far as the eye could see. Sunflowers were sprinkled in, popping up everywhere, wild and free. Each yellow face turned up to be blessed by the sun.

In the distance, stood an English Oak. Only a few months ago, it was brown, partially naked, with a few dead leaves clinging to its lifeless branches. Like everything else on the prairie, it fought and struggled against the winter's angry abuse, just to be born again in the Spring. Now, its proud limbs stretched wide, bursting with leaves, as green and beautiful as ever.

All of the beauty that nature had to offer, still could not stop those voices that began to play within his head again: The cries and pleas of Mida and Raffe Tumbler. They were good, honest people. A hardworking couple, that had a second child way too late in life. A boy that was indulged, much more than they could afford; and yet he was never satisfied. An ungrateful son, that had no interest in the farm, or the family—until he got into trouble, that is. Then, he wanted his family. No, then he **needed** his family.

Two years ago, Russ would never have even have contemplated what he was about to do. However, two years ago, he still had a wife and son of his own. Together, they had built a nice life and a successful farm. The oldest Tumbler boy had learned the hard way—that no matter how successful you are, nature can bring you to your knees in a heartbeat. Both Leah and Seth were taken from him, before he even realized they were sick.

At this point, his life didn't matter. If he could bring any peace, or pleasure to his folks, that's what he would do. Even if it meant pulling that boy's butt out of the fire—again.

A small stack of rounded boulders appeared just ahead. According to the old man at the livery stable, he should be getting close to the ranch. It was time to stop thinking about the past and start making a plan for the future. Between the old man and Nettie, Russ had learned that the Marshal was out of town. He had already departed. with the star witness against his brother.

Russ was mildly surprised that this Marshal would take his daughter with him, instead of sending her by train, but that would definitely work in his favor. It would give him more time to stop the young woman. Calleigh O'Brian. He'd learned from Nettie that she was a doctor. Young. Married.

Giving Coal's reins a sharp pull, the quarter horse came to a stop. Russ tilted his face up to the sun. _Stop feeling sorry for her. Just do this and get it over with!_

Three meals at the Prairie Rose, all served by Nettie, plus the old man at the stable and the clerk at the Dodge House, had all been pretty free to give up information about the Dillon family. Besides the daughter that was testifying, Dillon had a wife and two smaller children. The recent events in Russ' life had left him numb, but not so numb that he could harm small kids.

Apparently, Matt Dillon set great store by his wife. Taking her would probably be the best plan. It seemed as though the two women were pretty close as well. Hopefully, the girl would back off of her testimony, in order to get her mother back safe and sound. Then nobody would get hurt.

The directions were accurate, Russ thought, as he turned down the dirt road leading to the LadyK. At the end of the road, he could see a tall, redheaded woman walking with a small boy. More than likely, that was the wife. Russ pulled in a long breath and headed down the path.

 **TBC**


	10. Chapter 10 - Up Close and Personal

**Separate Journeys**

 **Chapter 10**

 **Up Close and Personal**

By the time Russ caught up to the couple, they had reached the front yard. He dismounted and walked the last few feet. The redhead was stooped over, talking to the little boy, with her back still facing him.

Russ mentally braced himself for the meeting. "Would you be, Mrs. Dillon?"

Kitty gave Cooper a wink, as she stood up to greet the visitor. She turned, already armed with a smile. Sapphire eyes sparkled, as she nodded her head. "I would be. May I help you?"

For a moment, he felt like he was frozen in time. In all of his various plans and schemes, it never occurred to him that she would be so beautiful. He saw the faint look of confusion cross her face and quickly kicked himself into gear. With a tip of his hat, he introduced himself. "The name is Russ Tumbler, ma'am."

Cooper gave her sleeve a slight tug. "Momma, can I go back with Hadley and Poppy?"

She took her eyes from the stranger, long enough to speak to her son. "Go on ahead. I'll be along in a minute."

Russ needed that break to compose himself. "I was looking to pick up a few horses. Your husband's name is pretty well-known." He stammered for a minute and issued a smile. "I meant, as a horse rancher. I know the name Marshal Dillon is well known everywhere. I mean, of course-"

Kitty's laugh stopped his babbling. It was a rich, inviting laugh. "It's all right, Mr. Tumbler. I know what you meant. The famous Marshal is building quite a reputation as a horse rancher."

He suddenly felt at ease and laughed with her. "I heard he was out of town. I just wanted to look at some of his stock." Russ played with Coal's reins, to keep his nervous hands from shaking.

"That's a beautiful horse!" Kitty lightly brushed Russ' shoulder as she stepped up next to the animal. "What's his name?"

"His name?" She turned, looking at Russ once again with those sparkling eyes, waiting for an answer. "Oh; his name is Coal. It's his color and his name. I raised him from a colt." The man watched Kitty scratch the forehead of the ebony face. His green eyes shifted in another direction, to silently reinforce his mission here. He wasn't planning on hurting her. Another stroke of luck came his way, when a grey-haired old man came around from the back of the house in a buggy, with a tiny redhead and the brown curly-headed boy that the woman had been with earlier.

Doc pulled the buggy up next to Kitty. "I'm going over to check on Newly and they want to come along. We won't be long." He looked past her, to the smiling man and his black horse. "Will you be all right?"

Kitty touched the older man's shoulder in a way that let Russ know this fellow was important to her. "I'm fine. Hadley, you behave! Mind Poppy."

A mass of red ringlets bounced up and down, as the toddler nodded her head. "Uh-huh. I be good. C'mon, Poppy."

Kitty watched her family pull away, before turning back to Russ.

"No instructions for the boy?" He hoped his voice sounded more casual than it felt.

"No." She watched the buggy disappear down the lane. "Cooper is what is known as, the perfect child. Do you have children, Mr. Tumbler?"

It looked like he wore a smile. It met all of the qualifications: Lips barely opened, revealing pearly white teeth. The corners upturned, just enough. But, it had no heart. It was born of sadness. Try as he might, Russ could not lie to those eyes. "I did," he responded quietly. "He died; two years ago."

Even the sun's valiant effort to warm the air could not ward off the chill that settled between the pair. After a moment of awkward silence, Kitty reached out to the stranger, laying a gentle hand on his forearm. "How would you like to come into the house for a cup of coffee? I have a fresh pot made."

Russ had cut himself off from everyone these past two years. Why, now, did he have to meet this woman? He told himself, _this would be an ideal chance to kidnap her_. Even his subconscious knew that he was lying.

Kitty led the way into her kitchen and told Russ to have a seat at the table. "Do you take cream or sugar?" Kitty glanced over her shoulder, when he declined both, then carried them to her visitor.

In all her years at the Long Branch, the one thing she had learned, was how to listen. If he wanted to talk about it, she would listen; if he didn't, that was fine too.

"Do you have a ranch?"

He sipped the coffee and made a face of approval. "Yes, but nothing as big as this. I just recently became interested in raising horses. Maybe Coal sparked that interest." Russ paused to take a second drink. "I saw the cattle. What made you decide to raise horses as well?"

"Cattle provides well for my family, but my husband is more interested in horses." Russ was quick to notice the light that came into her eyes when she spoke of her husband.

"And he's the Marshal too? He's a busy man. I heard he was out of town on business. Is that cattle, horse, or law business?" He found her so easy to be with, there was nothing forced about his laughter now.

"Law. He's taking a prisoner to Hays."

"Does he go alone on these trips? I mean, does he take a deputy?"

"The prisoner isn't violent. It should be a simple trip." Kitty avoided mentioning her daughter, out of habit. Matt had taught her years ago, never give out information. At present, she didn't suspect the sandy-haired man of anything, but she wasn't going to take any chances.

The conversation became comfortable, as they exchanged bits of themselves without actually revealing any serious facts. She talked about Dodge and how it had grown. He talked of his hometown, of Lawrence. Sadly, he had been there when Quantrill came through. Kitty could see that Russ had been through a lot of hard times.

Russ sensed that she wasn't going to reveal any information. He finished his coffee and watched her walk across the room to refill his cup. With her back to him, he knew this was his best chance to take her, while her guard was down _. I won't hurt her,_ he told himself.

Kitty continued to talk, as she poured the coffee; mostly innocuous comments. But just as the man rose from his chair to put his plan into action, Kitty said something that caught his attention.

"I was just talking to my son when you came. Sometimes he is in such a hurry to grow up." There was a wistful breath, as she added. "I suppose as a mother, it's not unusual that I want him to stay small as long as possible. To protect him, from all the bad things and the bad people in the world. I'm sure you felt the same way about your boy."

Russ suddenly felt like his heart had just fallen to his feet. Of course, that's what he'd wanted for Seth. Kitty Dillon was a good mother and her son reminded him of his own little boy. This was not going to work. He knew at this moment, whatever he did, he was going to have to do at a distance. It would have to be strictly impersonal.

When Kitty turned, she saw the paleness that had overtaken her guest. In that same moment, she realized what she had said. Setting the cup back down, she hurried across the room. "I am so sorry, Mr. Tumbler. I don't know why I said such a thing." She reached down, taking his hands in hers, amazed at how cold they were.

"It's all right," he reassured her. "I do know how you feel." Russ reached back to retrieve his hat from the chair. "I really should be on my way." He walked toward the back door, with Kitty following close behind.

They stepped outside and she walked him around to the front yard. "Well, this is where we met. I guess it's a good place to part. Please, stop back by on your way home. Matt will have returned by then."

Russ ducked his head in a shy gesture. "I'll sure try. Thank you for the coffee and the hospitality. It's been a pleasure, ma'am." He climbed onto Coal and with a tip of his hat, rode off. _This Dillon isn't as smart a man as people think,_ Russ thought _, if he was, he wouldn't leave a beautiful woman like that unprotected._

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Wylie rode into the meadow that lay between the corral and the main house. He spotted the missing ranch hand halfway down the hill and dismounted to make the rest of the trip on foot. "Bear, we all been looking for you. What in tarnation are you doing, laying here in the grass?"

"Watchin'." As usual, Bear's answer was short and direct.

The frustrated young cowboy pushed his hat high onto his forehead. "Watching what, exactly?"

The mammoth of a man pulled himself from the ground and pointed down the hill. "Her."

Wylie turned his attention from the big man standing beside him, to the scene at the main house. Miss Kitty was talking to a man. The solid black horse was unfamiliar, so more than likely, it was a stranger. It appeared as though they were saying goodbye, when the stranger mounted and rode off. As Miss Kitty walked back into the house, Wylie's gaze returned to Bear. "You been spyin' on Miss Kitty?"

"Not spying. Watchin'. When the Marshal goes away, he always says, _Bear, watch over her_." His hat found its resting place in the wooly mass he called hair and Bear slowly turned and lumbered back up the hill. "The stranger's gone. She's all right now."

 **TBC**


	11. Chapter 11 - 2nd Night

**Separate Journey**

 **Chapter 11**

 **2** **nd** **Night**

"We should be there tomorrow." Matt cast an accusing glance at the young man sitting off by himself. "Barring any more … _accidents_." He dug around in his saddlebag, producing a couple of cans. "Looks like it's beans for supper."

His daughter's grin was followed by an excitable utterance. "Cold beans, out of a can!?"

Calleigh's enthusiasm caused Matt to do a double take at his daughter. "How can you possibly be excited over cold canned beans?" He handed the prized food down to the girl, while he went in search of some firewood. "Would it disappoint you too much if we at least heated them up?"

"Is that the way you usually eat them?"

He thought about lying for a moment, but she was looking up at him with those innocent blue eyes. "No, I usually eat 'em cold. Straight out of the can."

"How about that…" Her words stopped, as she hurriedly dug through the saddlebags, "…I can make coffee _and_ supper tonight!" Calleigh's slender shoulders slumped when her search was fruitless. "There's no opener in your bag."

Matt dropped the load of firewood and stepped over next to his daughter. He retrieved a knife from his saddlebag and picked up one of the cans. In a move that she would never have had the strength to duplicate; he punctured the tin and tore the lid open.

"That's amazing! Let me try." Calleigh reached for the knife.

"Nuh-uh." Matt swatted her hands away, as he reached for the other cans. "Those hands are for healing. I'm not going to watch you lose a couple of fingers." He pried open the next can. "I think there's one more can in the bag. I suppose we have to feed _him_." Calleigh quickly retrieved the last can and handed it to her dad.

Matt built the fire, still keeping a close eye on the prisoner. Escaping wasn't a concern. Steering clear of Boomer's 'help' was the thing he worried about. While he was working on the fire, Calleigh rummaged through her own saddlebag to find a couple more headache pills. She handed them to her dad when she went to make the coffee.

"Are these Mrs. Prudlin's?" He winked at his daughter, knowing she knew about the longtime family joke.

"After what you been through, I wouldn't have the heart to fool you." She handed him her canteen to wash down the pills. "The coffee will be ready in just a few minutes. Why don't you sit down and rest? I'll bring you a cup."

Matt followed the doctor's advice and settled down on the ground, leaning against his saddle. He watched his daughter coming toward him with two cups of coffee.

"So, Dad… You going to let Boomer eat with us?"

Blue eyes shifted under heavy lids toward the forlorn character sitting on the other side of the fire. Without a word, the lawman shoved a spoon into one of the cans and handed it to her. Sometimes the spoken word was just not necessary.

Calleigh took the can over to the boy. She squatted down beside him for a few minutes. Whatever she said, brightened the sullen face, leaving him as happy as if he actually had good sense.

She returned to Matt and settled down beside him. "Pass me a can of those beans." Impatient fingers waved toward the cans.

"What'd you say to him?" Dillon set his coffee on the ground to pick up the remaining cans and handed her the cold dinner. The beleaguered lawman settled back into a more comfortable position. He stretched out his long legs, crossing them at the ankles.

As opposed to her dad, Calleigh crossed her short legs Indian style. "I told him if he behaved the rest of the way, you wouldn't ask Judge Brooker to hang him." She paused long enough to lick the juice from her chin.

Matt chewed on the mouthful of mushy beans while watching the petite redhead attack the tasteless fare with the same gusto as if it were fine cuisine. He held up the can, checking the label, then reached over, turning her can around. "You got the same thing I have?"

"Yeah." In a gesture that screamed anything but feminine, Calleigh drug the cuff of her sleeve across her mouth, wiping away the last remnants of 'dinner'. "Don't you just love this outdoor living? Cooper would be wild about this." Bright blue eyes full of excitement confronted him. "You need to take him camping."

He polished off the last of the beans and retrieved his coffee. "Why not Hadley? Don't you think she might follow in the footsteps of her big sister?"

Calleigh stood up, reaching for her dad's cup, then walked over to the fire for refills. "Nope. She's our Little Princess. Hadley will be the girly-girl that Kitty always wanted." She handed him the fresh brew before settling back down. "Their idea of camping will be sitting outside Jonas', waiting for him to open up, so they can be the very first to browse through the latest hats."

Matt had to chuckle. Kitty could—and would—rough it when need be; but she was, without a doubt, a girly-girl at heart. _And oh, what a sweet girly-girl she could be,_ he mused silently.

That thought prompted a string of memories from their one and only 'vacation' camping trip: That seductive ice blue gown. Sucking that sweet, candied syrup from her fingers…

"Pleasant memories?"

Matt blinked hard, several times, trying to leave the blissful memories behind. Finally, matching blues eyes met, until one set turned away embarrassed. "Uh, just thinking about…about tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." Calleigh could take on such a patronizing tone for someone not even half his age. "Odd; it looked as though you were remembering something…pleasant." She kept her eyes on the black liquid swirling around in the bottom of her cup. "Maybe, _another_ camping trip?"

Matt screwed up the edges of his mouth and began chewing on the corner of his bottom lip. His eyes were no longer shy, but dark with suspicion. After a long period of silence, he uttered a single word. "Festus!"

In that moment, the young redhead abandoned any signs of being a brilliant physician, as she fell back into a fit of giggling. "He might have mentioned the 'state' they found you in, up in those hills."

"Does anyone in this family know how to mind their own business? I'm gonna have Brooker hang both of them—Boomer _and_ Festus!"

Calleigh wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes; her words took on a sympathetic and somewhat apologetic tone. "Don't blame him. I can be real inquisitive and… well, he's pretty easy to trick into giving up information." She took a sip of coffee, partially hiding behind the cup. "Kitty was pretty closed-mouthed about it. You, uh, want to talk about it?"

"No, I **don't** want to talk about it!" That voice could not be mistaken for any other than Marshal Dillon's. The tone had a finality to it, that told her to move on…and do it quickly.

She chose a safer topic. "What time do you think we'll get to Hays?"

"Should get to town about ten a.m."

"The trial starts at one."

"That should give me enough time to clean up and buy some new clothes." He couldn't help casting another quick glance at Boomer, before turning his attention back to his daughter. "Are you nervous about testifying?"

"No. I just wish I could have gotten ahold of that gun before Jenner was killed. He was a good man." She rose to her feet again, making one last trip to the fire, to fill both cups. It was odd how a person could develop feelings for someone they barely knew. Calleigh figured life was just a series of hearts touching hearts and this old man had secured a place within hers. She walked back over, handing Matt a last cup, before squatting down beside his saddlebags and reaching in.

"What are you digging around for?"

"Thought maybe you hid a piece of pie in here," she sighed.

"You don't get pie on the trail." He drawled sarcastically. "There's a couple of sticks of licorice that Cooper slipped in there for me."

His revelation came a little late, as she already had a brown stick poking out from soft, pink lips. The discovery must not have been completely satisfying, as she continued to dig.

"Hey…wuutsh thish?"

"Take the candy out of your mouth, so I can understand you." This was his **adult** child, he had to remind himself.

She slurped the sticky back and held up the treasure in question. "Where did you get these binoculars? I thought only the army had these."

"Oh, Kitty bought them for me. Special ordered from France. She thought they might come in handy."

The sun had already rested to the point that its brilliance was hidden in the shadows, making it hard to decipher anything through the magnifying lenses. "Well aren't you special." Despite the fact she couldn't make out much of anything, she continued to press the black tubes to her eyes, scanning the landscape. "She spoils you."

"As opposed to _you?_ " He mumbled. Matt finished the last of his coffee. "We'd better get some sleep. Daybreak comes early." Calleigh pulled her pallet a little closer to her dad's and settled down for the night.

 **TBC**


	12. Chapter 12 - Seeing Things Differently

**Separate Journeys**

 **Chapter 12**

 **Seeing Things Differently**

Russ had ridden all day and most of the night, to catch up to the Marshal and his daughter. He had no way of knowing that it was the curse of Boomer Flaster, that had slowed the threesome down.

By the time Russ neared the sleeping travelers, only the embers of a small fire remained alive. The brilliance of the full moon had been quite accommodating in helping him locate the meager campsite. There was a stand of trees close by to give him cover. Although he couldn't see any people, he quickly spotted three horses by the spring.

The unsuspecting redhead lay sleeping, not more than half a mile up the way. Russ paced furtively in the wild grass. It was a toss-up, which was racing faster—his mind, or his heart. Cold logic told him, his best bet was to sneak up on them and shoot her—maybe all of them—in their sleep.

He walked over to Coal, snatching his canteen from the saddle. Gulping down one mouthful after another wasn't going to help. It was fear that dried out his mouth, not thirst. Russ capped the canteen and slung it back over the saddle horn. Coal whinnied softly, turning a long face toward his owner.

Russ leaned into the compassionate animal, the only living thing he had left from his good life. "Coal, I'm in a mess here. If that boy hangs, it will kill both the folks. I mean that literally. Those old hearts can't take another loss. Not so soon after losing both Seth and Leah."

Coal held still, while the anguished man continued to stroke his long neck. "I can't shoot someone in their sleep. I'll wait 'til morning. I can get a good shot from here and…" He swallowed again and cleared his throat… but he still couldn't finish his sentence. Sometimes, if the words weren't said aloud, it was like, they weren't real.

But, the words _were_ real. It was a perfect storm of emotions that owned Russ Tumbler. Fear, grief and dread were taking him to a place that he never knew existed. The weariness of it all drained the last bit of energy from his strapping body and it slumped to the ground. No blanket, no bedding—just a field of soft Kansas grass under his weary bones.

"Tomorrow." He whispered. "It will all be over…tomorrow."

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

The sun came up and so did Calleigh… Bouncing and bubbly as usual, "Coffee's made." She held out a cup to Matt, with a smile much more cheerful than nature intended this early in the morning. "Look at that sun! This is going to be a beautiful day. Beautiful!"

Matt gratefully took the cup, but wasn't quite ready for the enthusiasm. "Remind me to give Newly a raise." This was uttered under his breath, but the sarcastic shot that Calleigh gave him, clearly said she heard.

"Want to walk over to the spring with me, to fill the canteens and water the horses?"

"Sure." Matt walked over to get the reins of all three horses and followed the spunky girl to the water's edge.

Boomer watched them leave the sparse camp, then ventured closer to the fire for a refill on his coffee. He filled his cup and wandered over to their bedding, reaching down to touch the soft material. His blanket was all scratchy and dirty. These were pretty nice; better even than the ones his ma had when he lived at home.

He kicked at one saddlebag with the toe of his worn boot, while glancing frequently back in the Marshal's direction. Something had caught his attention and Boomer leaned down, quickly grabbing up the black object. The boy turned it around in all directions, trying to figure out what—exactly—it was. It had two long tubes, with glass in both ends.

Curiosity was stronger than fear, as he held it up to his eyes and peered through the glass. "Wow, everything is so… _small_!" This was the most incredible thing he had ever seen in his entire life!

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Russ didn't have a cup of coffee to start his day. He was alone with his thoughts about the terrible thing he was about to do. Crouched in the tall grass, he watched the girl and the lawman, lead the horses to the spring. She was literally bouncing around the big man, her face full of smiles and sunshine. In the next few moments, that effervescent light would be doused forever.

The bile began to rise in his throat, although he tried to push it down, to ignore it—but it was too strong to control. Russ dropped the rifle behind him, as he fell to his knees. His body began to retch and gag, in an attempt to purge this evil from him. There was nothing left to sacrifice, but the acidy liquid of his stomach. He remained on his knees with one hand braced against the ground to support his body.

In a weary gesture, Russ drug his forearm across his mouth, wiping away the remaining beads of spit. When he pushed himself to his feet, he took a moment to steady himself, before reaching for the rifle. Once again, he tried to wash away the noxious taste with a long drink from his canteen. When he finished, he poured the remaining liquid over his head to clear out the dizziness.

It was time. He couldn't avoid his mission any longer. Russ put the rifle up to his shoulder and steadied his grip. There she was: Kitty Dillon's daughter. The young woman that would hang his brother. Russ Tumbler was trapped. For his family, there was only one choice; but he knew that once he pulled this trigger, he could never go back.

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Calleigh was listening to Matt talking about a previous trip several years back, when she noticed Boomer twirling around. This was odd behavior even for him. She tried to maintain a casual smile as she began to ease away from her dad.

"I'm going to douse the fire with this and then I'll refill it." She capped the canteen and nonchalantly meandered back to the camp, all the while hoping that Matt wasn't watching her.

As she drew closer, Calleigh could tell that their prisoner had discovered the binoculars. Parroting her own actions from last night, he held them to his eyes looking up, then down, then around and continued on in this pattern.

Calleigh stepped behind the tree, close to the camp taking a moment to look back at Matt and then again toward Boomer. It was then that she noticed he was holding the glasses backward. Stepping a couple of feet from the tree, she called to him softly, "Turn them around."

Naturally, being Boomer, he turned them over, not around. Calleigh arched her brows, accepting the young man's invariable gift of always making the wrong choice. "No, Boomer. Look through the **other** end, the **little** end."

The dull-witted young man cautiously scrutinized the smaller end before putting them up to his eyes. "Oh my gosh! Lookit how **big** ever'thing is." Again, he began to swing them in every direction. He was making a giant circle from the sky to the trees and around to the grassy…

"NOOOO!" Boomer dropped the binoculars as he threw his scrawny body forward. He tackled Calleigh, right above the knees, sending both of them sprawling across the campsite.

Matt had been watching Calleigh as she tried to get that nitwit, Boomer to look through the right end of the binoculars. The Marshal had to laugh at the childlike amazement of the boy. In an instant, that laughter was cut short. It was reflex to pull his gun as soon as he heard the rifle shot and watched as Boomer sent Calleigh flying into the dirt.

Matt was on his knees, protecting his daughter with his body, in case of another shot. "Calleigh, are you all right! Answer me!" His words were sharp, his voice taut with fear. "One eye stayed on their surroundings, the other on her. It was only a split-second, but he saw the horse—like a black flame—disappear over the hill. He knew he would never catch it; but he would never forget it.

She propped herself up on her elbows. "I'm all right dad." Calleigh glanced over her shoulder "Boomer, you okay?"

The scraggly man pulled himself to his feet. "Yeah. I seed him in that thingy with the glass eyes."

 _Lenses_ , she thought, but this wasn't the time to correct him. Matt helped her to her feet and was wiping the dust from her jeans and shirt. Calleigh knew he didn't give a hoot about the dirty clothes, it was only to make sure that she was okay, so she stood still while he eased his fears.

"You think that shot was meant for me?" She made it sound like a question, but they both knew.

"You know it was." He replied in a clipped tone.

"Lookit here, Marshal." Boomer had staggered a couple of feet to the tree. "That feller shot the tree. He sure wasn't a good shot. Were he?"

Matt exchanged a curious look with the intended victim. "He had to have been in that stand of trees. That's the only cover out here. Nobody is going to miss from that distance."

"Do you think he was trying to scare me from testifying?"

"I don't know." The adrenaline was subsiding and Matt felt his normal calm reclaiming him. He turned his focus once again to his little girl. "Sure you're okay?"

Calleigh stretched up on her toes, armed with a hug and a kiss. "I'm fine. Just a little dirty." Her eyes wandered momentarily from the boy, to her dad. "Boomer risked his life for me."

"That guy obviously wasn't trying to shoot you." Matt was too stubborn to give in that easy. He still had that giant purple welt across his forehead to remind him of the tightly held grudge.

"But Boomer didn't know that. He saw that man with a rifle an-"

Matt held up his hands as a sign of surrender. "Okay, okay. He's a hero." Somehow, the big man's words lacked enthusiasm.

Calleigh made up for it, when she threw her arms around Boomer, thanking him for being such a brave defender. In all his years of exaggerated tales, he had never described a smile as outlandishly huge as the one he sported at this moment.

Matt shuffled his feet, his giant boots stirring up the loose dirt. "Uh, you... did good." He caught sight of Calleigh's unspoken reprimand as he turned around. With a minimal of mumbling under his breath, he turned back. "You can ride up with us… if you want."

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Russ had taken off the moment that bullet left his rifle. He disappeared over the hill before anyone of the three could see him. Or, at least he thought he had. He knew that the big man's first thought was to get to his child. That's what a father does.

The would-be assassin sat now, under the protection of a giant cottonwood tree. This was not the muscular young man that could wrestle a full-grown steer to the ground. This man sat with his knees drawn up to his chest. His body wracked with tears, as he buried his head in his arms.

At the last minute, he simply could not kill that innocent girl. When he started on this journey, he knew it was wrong; but he felt so empty inside, that it didn't matter. Then.

He was beginning to realize, it was this very emptiness that now hampered him from doing this terrible thing. He was in pain. His folks were in pain. Bringing pain to the Dillon's was not going to solve anything.

The time finally came when there simply were no more tears. He raised his head, leaning it back against the strength of the old tree. Russ wiped the remaining tears from his sad green eyes, with the palms of his hands. For the first time in two years, he actually felt something. Something good. He thought it might actually be hope.

Coal wandered closer to his owner. He stood, waiting patiently for Russ to climb on, so they could continue on the Hays. The most Russ felt that he could offer now, was support for his seemingly doomed kid brother.

 **TBC**


	13. Chapter 13 - Hays

**Separate Journeys**

 **Chapter 13**

 **Hays**

Calleigh went along with the Marshal while he turned Boomer over to the courts. Chances were, he was the only prisoner going into the prison with a bigger smile than when he would come out.

Brooker tried to concentrate on Boomer's allocution, but his attention was inescapably drawn to the Marshal. The lawman's discomfort was clear. By the time the trio had reached Hays, there just wasn't enough time for Dillon to clean up and purchase some new clothes.

The judge held up his hand in order to interrupt the confession. "Marshal, did the defendant have anything to do with your obvious injuries?"

Matt drew his mouth to one side of his face, with a flummoxed scowl. "Not directly, Your Honor."

Matt Dillon was struggling for a way to explain the insane trip from Dodge, when Calleigh tugged at his sleeve. The lawman motioned to the judge, signaling his need for just a moment. The young woman whispered something into his ear, that caused him to make a face of complete disbelief. Shaking his head in a doubtful gesture, he turned back to Brooker. "Judge, it was a series of…unfortunate events."

Judge Brooker quickly looked down at his table to hide his smile. Someday, he _really_ wanted to hear this story. But, for now… he had to finish this business, then prepare for the trial of the Tumbler boy. "Mr. Flasting, you may continue."

"Who?"

"That's you, Boomer." Matt gave the boy's shoulder a shove.

"Oh. Yes sir!" The boy continued on with his version of the robbery. Calleigh had wanted to plead with the court, explaining how this prisoner had risked his life for her. At first, Boomer was excited—until he realized he would get _less_ time instead of more. She finally agreed to remain silent.

The court listened patiently until he was done. "Young man, I hope you have learned your lesson. Maybe six months in jail will reinforce this."

"Six months!" Boomer turned back to the Marshal. "You promised me a whole year! Are you still mad, 'cause I burned your clothes?"

Oh, Brooker **really** wanted to hear this story! However, it was becoming clear to the benevolent justice, that the young man wanted the security of prison life. "On second thought, I am going to amend your sentence to a full year."

Calleigh gave Boomer a hug before Sheriff Kedner led the grinning boy away. She promised to visit him—and to always bring candy.

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Matt closed his eyes as he soaked in the warm water. The primary reason, naturally being, was to take the ten pounds of Kansas dirt off his body. But, the added perk was the soaking of sore muscles. Calleigh had gone down to the Emporium, to pick up new clothes. The Marshal thought his vest was salvageable, but his daughter vetoed that decision and returned with a completely new set of clothes. He did wonder how he was going to explain this purchase to Kitty, without revealing the slapstick antics he had endured—not just to body and belongings, but to pride.

"Hey." The slamming door and yelling were an instant clue that Calleigh was back. "If you hurry, we can grab a bite before court." She had wandered over to the window of Matt's hotel room. "You have a better view than I do."

"Want to trade?" He stepped out of the water closet, decked out in his new duds. The lawman pulled at the neck of the new shirt. "This thing is so stiff."

"Well, you look fantastic. Very impressive, Marshal Dillon." She walked around him, checking him out from all angles. "I think I should wear my guns—to keep the women away from you. I know Kitty would thank me."

"Oh, stop!" Matt reached for his hat on the coat stand. Taking the girl by her shoulders, he turned her around and gently shoved her toward the door. "Go. The last thing Hays needs is for **you** to be armed!"

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Russ Tumbler rode into Hays, just two hours behind the Marshal's party. As he rode past the Griddle House, he spotted the sorrel that the O'Brian girl had been riding. It was pretty distinctive, with those four white stockings.

Coal stopped, as instructed by the pull of his reins. His owner stared into the restaurant. Why did he want to go in there? True enough, his stomach was so empty he could feel the hunger chewing on his backbone But that wasn't the attraction for him. It was curiosity that enticed him to enter that diner, as opposed to the one down the street. Russ knew he hadn't come anywhere near hitting the girl, but he needed to see firsthand that she was all right.

The Griddle House was doing a hearty business today. This was not unusual when Brooker was holding court, especially if there was the possibility of a hanging verdict. Russ took a seat in a corner that gave him a perfect view of the Marshal and his daughter.

Although his purpose had been to observe the Dodge couple, his stomach did kick up a row when he ordered just coffee. The old man taking his order stared toward the growling anatomy, as if to question the young man's meager choice. On second thought, Russ added a steak, some potatoes and hot biscuits to go with that coffee.

He could see the big man had quite an appetite as well, but the girl had settled for pie. The Marshal continued to laugh at the girl, even as he wolfed down his food. The redhead seemed to be excited about something. It was as if words were not enough; she also relied on her hands to tell the story. Russ had no way of knowing that being animated was a normal part of Calleigh's way to communicate.

It was the smell of honey on those warm biscuits that diverted his attention from the Marshal when the waiter slipped a platter of food under his nose. Russ stopped observing long enough to set a good, steady rhythm going with his knife and fork. Soon he was chomping his way through the meal while being entertained again by the young redhead.

The girl turned her face toward him for a moment and he was struck by the memory of another beautiful redhead. The O'Brian girl looked strikingly like her mother. Russ could see, by the way that giant of a lawman watched his daughter, that he loved her very much. In the way that he continually pointed to her plate, telling her to eat—as if she were still a child. _But she was_ , he thought. Grown or not, she would always be that man's child.

His stomach was finally satisfied and he pushed the empty plate aside in order to polish off his second cup of coffee. The image of his own folks rushed into his heart and he knew they would most likely not survive the loss of their baby. They were good people, he reasoned. It was desperation that had driven them to such a brutal decision. Russ offered a prayer of thanks that he had come to his senses. He finally realized that it was time that Hyatt faced up to his own actions.

The Marshal pulled his massive frame to his feet and held the chair for the petite redhead. Russ glanced at the clock over the Courthouse. Quarter 'til one. Like Dillon, he rose to his feet, tossed the money onto the table, then snatched up his hat. It was time.

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Calleigh felt her dad's arm slip around her waist and pull her towards him as they crossed the street to the courthouse. "What's wrong?"

"That horse. The black one." Matt continued to hold her close, as his eyes wandered through the small crowd of people on the street. He thought about letting her go alone, while he waited for the shooter, but that was too risky.

"That's the one he was riding." She looked up at her dad in time to see the surprised look flash through his eyes. Clearly, he was stunned that she had paid attention to him all these years about being observant. Rolling her eyes with a huffy little breath, she sighed, "Yes Marshal, I actually have been listening." She also saw his blue eyes searching the crowd. "Do you want to stay out here and wait for him to come after his horse?"

"No. I'm not about to leave you alone. Come on. Let's get inside." The Marshal picked up the pace as he ushered his daughter into the courthouse. "You stay by me as much as possible." Calleigh nodded, silently acquiescing to his request.

Hyatt Tumbler did have a lawyer and a pretty good one. But even Conrad Ovilee wasn't good enough to fight an eye-witness: The daughter of a renowned U.S. Marshal; a young, attractive wife; not to mention, a successful doctor. Calleigh O'Brian was the quintessential dream witness.

Mort Hemple was a new prosecutor and a zealous one. He was not about to let this habitual offender get away. Hemple had taken a long look at the boy's background. Hyatt presented himself as nothing more than a confused youth. To back up this image, he would smile, revealing a pair of deep-set dimples—and the judges would fold, wanting to give the lad a second chance.

Mida and Raffe's baby boy knew he was in serious trouble this time. That old man at the emporium was more than just a clerk. Jenner Pickens had worked in that store for forty-five years. He had helped pick out gifts for birthdays, holidays and special occasions for three generations of Hays town folks and out-of-town visitors alike. Jenner knew his customers. He knew their likes, their dislikes and was always prepared when they came into the shop. To say he was loved and respected, was an understatement. Even Calleigh had fallen prey to the old man's charms in the short time that she knew him.

Hyatt was genuinely surprised that being wounded himself didn't buy him a little sympathy. He was really beginning to be afraid, until he got the letter. His ma had written that Russ would be coming and that his brother would get him out of this mess. Then, her boy could come home where he belonged. The baby-faced boy had written back, all the words a heartsick old lady wanted to hear. But they were nothing more than scribbles of dried ink, clinging to a sheet of paper. There was no truth and no heart in a single word that Mida read. Nothing would drag him back to that God-forsaken plot of dirt. Especially not to live with those half-dead old people.

Today, the prisoner was being led to the courthouse. He had expected Russ to show up by now, or at least make a move to stop the trial. To be honest, he figured his brother was going to kill the only witness. In his letter to his ma, he had mentioned several times that would be the only way to save his life. The fact that he rarely went home, didn't mean he didn't know his folks. Hyatt knew that he was Mida Tumbler's pride and joy. He knew his brother was devoted to the old folks—especially after he lost Leah and the boy.

But, Hyatt had seen the girl, just this morning and she was looking pretty healthy. He was beginning to get really nervous until he saw that familiar sandy hair enter the courtroom.

Russ stepped into the room, taking a seat in the corner behind the door. He steadied his gaze on the boy. There it was. That spoiled _it wasn't my fault_ expression, highlighted by those angelic dimples. It was his lack of arrogance that seduced people, but Russ knew it was Hyatt's presumed _innocence_ that was the real threat. The coddled young man was expecting to come through this unscathed, as usual. Unlike their ma, Russ knew when he read the letter that her baby would not be coming home.

As Russ watched the people file into the small room, the Marshal and his daughter walked past and he thought about the beautiful redhead back in Dodge. She had reminded him of his Leah. Although his wife was beautiful, it wasn't the physical likeness, but the warmth and compassion the two women shared. It was meeting Kitty that started to bring Russ Tumbler back to reality—and sanity.

 **TBC**


	14. Chapter 14 - State of Kansas vs HT

**Separate Journeys**

 **Chapter 14**

 **State of Kansas vs. Hyatt Tumbler**

Judge Brooker called his court into session, at precisely one o'clock. Punctuality was among his strongest attributes. He read the charges against the young man sitting at the table in front of him.

Matt's steady gaze fanned across the room like a beacon, searching for anyone, or anything, that was suspicious. Mostly, all he saw was a blur of angry faces, as the judge read the charges. Next up was the prosecutor, telling how the Tumbler boy was wounded at the scene. Caught in the act, so to speak. There was more talk, but the lawman's interest had come to rest on the sandy-haired young man sitting in the corner.

At first, it was just the profound sadness trapped in the stranger's eyes that caught Matt's attention. Then he remembered seeing him earlier, in the restaurant—the same restaurant where the black horse was hitched. It was all conjecture at this point, even the fact that both men shared the same hair color. But, the tiny hairs on the back of the lawman's neck began to bristle when he witnessed the look that passed between the two men. Circumstantial or not, he knew this was the man that had shot at Calleigh; and now he was here to save his little brother.

Matt's hand instinctively rested on his gun. He heard them call Calleigh's name and his heart began to pound against his ribs. She was going to be completely vulnerable to this man. As much as he wanted to stop the procedure, he had no real evidence of anything.

Calleigh gave his arm a squeeze as she stepped past him to take the stand. While Matt's focus stayed on the brothers, he heard her take the oath and Hemple's nasal twang begin to question her. She answered each question clearly and concisely. When she was asked to describe, in her own words what took place on June 12th of this year, her recollection was stated with such quiet eloquence, her dad had to do a double-take, to make sure it was his Calleigh.

There were times Matt lost sight of the fact that his bratty, pie-eating daughter was in fact, a dignified professional. Or, at least she could be, when circumstances called for it. _Hmmm, style and grace. She is her mother's daughter,_ he thought proudly.

Matt was not the only man impressed with her performance. Just as Conrad Ovilee feared; Dr. O'Brian was indeed the perfect witness. Calm. Collected. Intelligent. _And_ beautiful. He glanced at his client, somehow managing to keep his thoughts silent. _We'll be lucky if they don't hang us both!_

Both sides had questioned her and finally, Calleigh was released from the stand. Matt watched anxiously, wanting her to hurry back to his side. He kept a watchful eye on the rider of the ebony horse, wondering when he was going to make his move. But, the man seemed oddly calm. Twenty years as a lawman told him there was something off about this situation.

He heard Brooker ask Tumbler to stand and began to announce his verdict. Much to everyone's surprise, the young man wasn't sentenced to hang. Brooker mentioned his age and the boy's attorney had made the point that it was the other man, Tabbow Rool, that actually did the shooting. Hyatt was going to live, but that life was going to be confined to the Kansas State Prison, for the next fifteen years.

There was a lot of dissatisfied undercurrent rumbling through the crowd. Considering the verdict, Matt wasn't surprised by that. What did garner his attention was the sandy-haired man's reaction. He almost seemed relieved. One quick glance at the shocked expression on the convicted man's face, made it clear he did not agree with his older sibling.

The Marshal was just as shocked as the defendant when the older brother quietly left the courtroom. No gunplay. No outburst. Not even an angry retort. Just shoved his hands deep into his pockets and quietly went out the door. For a moment, Matt's hand actually strayed from his weapon. Calleigh whispered in his ear that prosecutor Hemple wanted to speak with her and she stepped away from her dad. Matt realized later, that he should have kept his eyes on his daughter, rather than the stranger's departure.

Sheriff Kedner walked over to the stunned defendant, ready to take him back to jail. Fifteen years was more than the boy could comprehend and definitely more than he was willing to accept. Fueled by panic and fear, the slight-build-of-a-boy leapt into the aged lawman, grabbing his gun as he knocked him off balance. Hyatt's next move proved to be Matt's biggest fear. Before anyone could stop him, he had pulled Calleigh in front of himself as a shield.

The Sheriff's gun was pressed hard into the soft, white skin, below Calleigh's ear. Adrenalin had empowered the convicted man with more strength than he had ever possessed. Hyatt used that to his advantage, to imprison the girl with his other arm.

Matt's gun was drawn instantly, but he simply did not have a clear shot. The muscles in his jaw worked feverishly, as he stared at his daughter. Cool blue eyes were bound together. His, sparked of anger and fear for her. Hers, bold with trust and confidence in him.

"Okay. We're getting out of here! Just stay back and I won't hurt her." Hyatt pressed the gun so hard against Calleigh's throat, that the tip of the barrel had disappeared into the ivory flesh. He began to inch his way back toward the door with her in tow.

"Tumbler! Think about what you're doing. They're not going to hang you, but if you do something stupid, they will." Matt moved slowly towards his daughter.

"Just stop right there. Get your hand away from your gun!" Matt was slow to obey, causing the panicked boy to pull back the hammer.

Each click echoed in the silence of the room. "Okay! Calm down." Matt quickly held his hands up for the boy to see. "Stop this before you do kill someone."

The angelic dimples had sunk out of sight, as he wore only a mask of fear and trepidation. "Nuh-uh. I'm not going to spend the rest of my life in jail."

Calleigh had heard the click of the hammer too. No one knew guns better than she did. She also knew how dangerous this one was, in the hands of a crazed boy. This was not the time to make a false move. They were almost to the door, when a shadow passed over the entryway, blocking out the sun.

Calleigh felt the arm tighten around her waist, as her captor froze, fearing what was behind him. His threats filled the courtroom. "I'll kill her! I swear. I'll-"

"HYATT!" Russ Tumbler's deep voice muted the boy's adolescent scream. "STOP!"

"Russ?" The boy's frightened eyes darted away from the Marshal, just long enough to make sure it really was his brother. "Russ, where've you been? I need a horse. Is Coal outside?"

"Hyatt. Let the girl go." Russ stepped closer to the boy. His voice soft, his tone, no longer angry. "Stop this, before someone gets hurt."

"What's the matter with you!? If you're not going to help me, get out of my way." Hyatt wanted to look away from Matt's menacing stare, but he was too afraid. He began to pull Calleigh toward the door again.

"You could be out in ten years. You're young enough to start over. I'll help you." Russ pleaded with his brother.

Anger was overtaking the boy's fear. He spat out the words. "To live on a dying little piece of dirt! So I can end up a broken man like you?" Hyatt gave Calleigh a hard jerk closer to the door. "No, she's gonna get me outta here. Either we both leave, or we both die!"

"I can't let you do that."

Hyatt could ignore the pain in his brother's voice, but couldn't ignore the sound of the cocking gun behind him. His grasp on the girl was even tighter, as he turned his head enough to see his brother. "You're going to shoot _me_? Your own brother?"

Russ felt the tear slide down his cheek. "Please don't make me, Hyatt. Just let her go."

Calleigh's cooperation had lulled the boy into a false sense of security. He had turned them both, so that she could see Russ' face too. For a brief moment, she shared a look with the man that was trying to save her life. Without words, he told her, it was time. She screamed, to throw the young man off-balance and jerked back, giving the heartbroken man the opening he needed.

One shot brought the boy down and gave Calleigh her freedom. Matt's long legs took him across the room in very few steps. He gathered his child into his arms. They didn't speak. They just clung to one another, as the courtroom emptied of spectators.

Russ slowly placed his gun back into the scabbard. He stared at the lifeless body in front of him. With a weary sigh, his gaze slowly lifted to the red-haired girl. "I'm sorry."

"That was you that took a shot at my daughter yesterday." Matt wanted to be angry, but this man had just saved her life.

Russ nodded, his eyes full of shame. "I couldn't do it. I'm ashamed that I even considered it."

Matt was reluctant to let go when Calleigh pulled away. She stepped over to stand closer to Russ Tumbler. "Thank you for what you did. I can only imagine how difficult a choice that was to make." She leaned closer still and kissed his cheek. "Thank you." She whispered again.

Matt reached out, gently pulling her back to his side. "Mr. Tumbler, I think we need to talk."

Russ nodded. "They serve a decent cup of coffee at that diner. How about I buy you both one?"

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Sheriff Kedner caught sight of the Marshal and his daughter, packing their horses to start back to Dodge. He lumbered across the street to say good-bye. "Looks like a good day to travel." He gave his hat a bit of shove back, as he turned his face up to the sun.

Matt gave the rope a pull to secure his bedroll, then gave Buck a friendly slap on the rump, as he started to walk around him to pack up Belle. His actions stopped when he encountered the battered face of the older man. "Sheriff, what happened to ya?"

Kedner snorted, a half laugh, half sigh, but before he could explain, Calleigh's concerned voice interrupted. "Sheriff Kedner… What happened?" She handed the last of her supplies to her dad and stepped closer to the injured man. Trained hands gently touched the bulging black eye and deeply bruised cheek. "Did you have a doctor look at this?"

He laughed again, this time with a sheepish smile. "I did, but thank you for asking. Doc Prouler says nothing is broke." When he brought up his hand to his face, both travelers saw that his fingers were bandaged as well. Now, two stunned faces waited for an answer. "It was the darnedest freak accident."

"Freak accident," Calleigh whispered, as her eyes were drawn to another set of curious blues. They stared at each other, not daring to say what each was thinking.

"Yeah," Kedner continued, oblivious to the couple's strange behavior. "I was taking that kid you brought in, back to his cell."

Calleigh was impressed with the stoic expression Matt maintained, while she struggled to keep her laughter buried.

"I was getting ready to shut the door, when Boomer fell and slammed it on my hand. Then, he was trying to help me up, when he fell again into the door, knocking it right into my face. Plum near knocked me out, but I want you to know, that boy didn't make any attempt to run away. No sir, he stayed right with me."

"Hmmm. Glad it wasn't worse." Matt uttered his muted answer and shook the man's hand, before climbing up onto Buck. Calleigh offered a smile, as she copied her dad's actions. They both offered a wave to the battered lawman before riding away.

Kedner had started back toward the jail when he heard the darnedest round of laughter erupt from the father and daughter. He shook his head with a generous smile. "They sure seem to enjoy each other's company."

 **FIN**


End file.
